


Gunmetal, Thunder and Stars

by daphnomancy



Series: Storms and Supernovas [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson - Freeform, Other, Panic Attacks, Sam Wilson/Clint Barton - Freeform, Slow Burn, Threesome - M/M/M, Torture, not AOU compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 22:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 68
Words: 149,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3913264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnomancy/pseuds/daphnomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They're all fucked up, maybe they can be fucked up together.</i>
</p><p>Steve Rogers is no closer to finding Bucky than he was when he first started. And after a stupid one night stand — <i>a mistake</i>— he's struggling, he's desperate, he's lost. Thor is a constant presence and Steve can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing as Bucky comes crashing back into their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This starts the day after the events in [Ice and Lightning](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2716001). This story can probably stand alone, but reading the prequel first would give a slightly more detailed context to this one, as the events depicted are referenced repeatedly throughout.
> 
> Completely unbeta'ed, I'm sorry. Also, rated explicit, but it sure takes its sweet time to get there. I'm so sorry!
> 
> There is only one chapter that warrants the Bad BDSM Etiquette and Dubious Consent tags; it's not the theme of the whole story. Likewise the 'torture' tag, there is one chapter where it is explicitly described, and it is mentioned occasionally, but is not a theme.
> 
> Finally, I'm gonna be the first to admit that this fic is pretty darned self-indulgent. It started out as writing practice and grew into this thing that was bigger, crazier and holy-cowier than I could have ever known. Realistically Steve/Bucky/Thor is completely _unrealistic_ , but darn, is it fun. (Also, I fully acknowledge that I have a problem where I really enjoy writing Steve Rogers having a really bad time. He doesn't deserve it, and I'm trash).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve woke up warm.

Steve woke up in a warm fog. For a moment he thought he was in his own bed in Stark’s Tower, but that illusion was quickly dashed by the large, firm, hot body pressed up against his back, snoring lightly by his ear. Steve tensed. Last night hit him like a ton of bricks, and it took everything in his power not to shoot up screaming.

Thor, still asleep, wrapped his arm even tighter around Steve’s abdomen, pulling Steve further into his body. They were flush together, and Steve schooled his breathing. For a breath or two Steve thought he could do this. He could relax back into Thor and fall asleep again, let himself stay warm. He forced his eyes open and clenched his jaw. _No._ Thor did not want this, he reasoned. It was just for the night. There was nothing left to do. With a sigh, Steve pulled Thor’s arm off him and moved out of the bed, slipping through the sheets, and gingerly stepping onto the floor. He stood, looking around for his clothes when—

“Are you leaving?”

Thor peered out at him through one eye as he started to wake.

“Just the bathroom,” Steve lied. He felt the twist of guilt in his stomach as he looked down at Thor’s stretched out form on the bed. Thor had nodded with a small smile, and closed his eyes once more, relaxing back into the bed. It was hard to lie to him. Steve padded over to the bathroom because of it, still naked and very, very conscious of it.

He splashed water on his face, looking at his reflection in the mirror, uncertain, uneasy. His body had a few light marks, fingerprint-shaped where Thor had held him down, manhandled him. Steve caught sight of his right arm. It was a deep red and purple sea of bruises. The break was almost healed under his muscles, but the bruises were taking their time. It was always the case. His bones stitched right up, but there was always a reminder for a few hours longer that he had done something really stupid. There was one bruise in particular, shaped like a large, strong hand.

Steve stared at it, gazing through the mirror and then holding his forearm up to look at a different angle. He very slowly brought his other hand up to the mark and, after waiting a moment, firmly pressed into it. A blossom of pain etched it’s way into his muscles and up his arm, and he bit back a hiss. He flexed his hand, and rolled his wrist, all the while feeling the bruised muscle work angrily through the pain under his skin. Steve felt his mouth turn up in something like a smile. He thought about last night. Pushing down the images of the sex, of Thor’s lips on his cock. _Don’t think about that_ , he ordered himself. Some parts of the night flashed before his eyes, and he could not parse through them, overwhelmed, but he would never admit that. Better to not think about that at all.

Instead he thought about Thor taking Steve’s broken arm in his hand and just squeezing. The rolling waves of pain that had shot through his arm and curled up in his shoulders, spine, core. That was real. The presence. The focus. He could not exactly recreate the feeling in his mind, but he knew it was a heroin strong rush. He remembered feeling it in his very cells, making him present where he had been floating. He was reminded of something one of the commanding officers said, back when he was in the army, before the serum; _“The body cannot remember pain because pain is just weakness leaving the body.”_

Letting out a quivering breath, he finally put his arms back down at his sides, glancing at his face once more in the mirror, and stepping out of the bathroom. That’s what had happened last night. Weakness leaving the body. Steve was stronger for it. And it was done.

He found his pants and shirt and started pulling them on.

“You _are_ leaving,” Thor said, now sitting up in the bed watching him.

“Yeah, last night was… _something_. But a one-time deal.”

“If that is what you wish.”

“It is,” Steve had no trouble mustering his authority today. But he still had a little trouble looking Thor in the eye. All the better to never let this happen again. He turned to leave.

“Steven,” Thor called out as Steve made it to the doorway.

Steve froze, hand on the doorframe, gripping a little too tightly for someone trying to walk away from casual sex.

“If you need to… do this again,” Thor trailed off, and Steve finally turned and saw Thor had a strange look on his face. Steve could not read it. “I would always be glad to be of assistance.”

“Thanks,” Steve said after a beat. “Yeah, thanks.”

He was never going to do that again. Steve knew that. But he bumped his arm on the door to the elevator and a new spring of pain flowered from his bruised arm, and Steve bit his lip. The pain churned up something visceral in his belly, and Steve quickly hit the button for his floor and leaned back against the wall of the elevator, shutting his eyes from it all and letting out a slow, shuddering breath.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Right, simple recon, picking up some goods in the form of tech and data,” Clint said, pulling up a hologram of a building in the city.

The Avengers were standing and sitting around a conference table in a small suite off of Pepper’s offices in Stark tower. Clint was leading the discussion, Tony sitting and spinning in his chair with a large Starbucks cup in his hand, Bruce, Thor and Natasha studying the hologram, and Steve in his usual chair only half listening. Business as usual.

The small, off to the side conference room at the edges of Stark Industries is where they met now. Without SHIELD there was not nearly so much military pageantry, though with Tony there was always some sort of loud display on the horizon. However, when it came to actual Avengers meetings, it was only the handful of them, meeting alone in one of the smaller conference rooms, occasionally with Maria Hill on speaker phone. Steve was certain it was better this way. There were no helicarriers, no massive monoliths at the capitol. He sometimes missed the regimented standards of military operations, but now there were no double agents, no lies or secrets. At least not secrets that affected national security. Steve was fine keeping his own personal secrets in check.

“Your standard Hydra abandoned base. Tony’s aboveground spec scan came up with some computers that may be helpful. We all know Hydra has been a step ahead of us this whole game, and we all know we’re secretly hoping there’s something there explaining why. There’s also trace technology that may be Asgardian, may be something else. So it’s Cap, Nat and Thor in this op. Civvies, no uniforms, light weapons but only if you must. I’m watching the entrance from across the street. Tony’s flyover boy. Bruce maintains contact here through Jarvis with Fury and Hill on speed dial. We leave tomorrow, at 0700.”

“Dear god. You expect me to be up that early?” Tony whined.

“I expect you not to be asleep yet.”

“Okay, fair assessment.”

“Hey, okay. News flash. Sesame Street is not actually a real street in New York. I was doing a flyby over Astoria, where I thought it might be, and so I had Jarvis run a search and lo and behold! no Sesame Street! My whole life is a lie.”

“No kidding?” said Bruce. “I thought it was a real street. Like they film on a set, but—”

“Sorry, what’s on Sesame street?” Steve asked.

“Our childhood,” Clint said.

“Your chi— I’m sorry, did you grow up there?”

“Never mind Steve, it was before your time.”

Steve bit his lip with a nod while the others chatted around him. He was fine running the op with just Nat. Because at least Nat had never made him moan the way Thor had the other night, but there was no way he was going to say that out loud. He simply nodded, making a note of the address listed on the building specs. He glanced up and saw Thor dutifully examining the hologram, arms crossed over his chest. Their eyes did not meet. They had not met since _that_ night. Or rather, since that morning when Steve walked out from Thor’s room, praying that no one met him in the elevator wondering where he had been, why he was wearing the same clothes as he had the night before. Steve was not sure he could meet Thor’s eyes again, and was inordinately grateful every time it did not happen. Steve counted it among his blessings, if he were being truly honest.

With a lackluster wave to the others, Steve headed out back to his floor. 

* * *

 

“Jarvis, would you please turn off the security cameras?” he said as he entered his apartment, striding over to the glass-topped desk. He pulled out his phone — one of the fancy Stark models, preloaded with apps that he skimmed through but was not really interested in — and shut it off, tossing it on the couch. 

“As you wish, Captain Rogers”

“And perhaps give me a heads up if anyone is coming up to visit.”

“Yes sir.”

He glanced up to the only slightly hidden camera on the ceiling and to watch the small, blinking light turn off after a moment, before he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out his files. Rifling through his papers, he found his list of Hydra bases, and checked for the address of the building, and found it was not there.

“Jarvis, would you please send up the info on the base we are looking into tomorrow? I would like to just look at it a little more.”

“Of course, sir.”

Steve shoved the papers over and soon, the desk lit up with the vibrant display of the building. Steve hovered his hand over it, raising it so the building now stood in three dimensions in front of him. Tony had given him a basic overview of how to use most of Jarvis’s system when he had first moved in. He picked it up fairly easily, but never really let the others know. They assumed he was a little slower on the technological side of things, and a very strange, remote part of him wanted to keep it that way. They thought he was old-fashioned. _Why ruin that image?_ A few pokes and prods at the miniature hologram, spinning the building and zooming where he could, and he had the layout memorized. 

“Jarvis, do you have any knowledge about this building from before it was a Hydra base? Am I right in guessing it was a bank?”

“Before it was a Hydra base it was most recently a private bank. Prior to that it was a government office.” The information popped up next to the model of the building, listing out facts, dates and details alongside the building specs.

“Which agency?” Steve asked, knowing the answer.

“SHIELD, sir.”

“Well, knowing SHIELD, knowing Hydra, that means there’s probably a basement we’re not seeing here. Have you run analysis on the framework of the building?”

“Processing now.”

Steve sat back in his chair. With a casual wave, he sent the hologram spinning around like a top on the desk. He snorted. Bucky would get a kick out of this. Back in Europe, the one time they wanted to know about a building’s layout without going inside they had to go to a damned library, bombed by the enemy, reading charred books, and looking at half destroyed blueprints as snow fell through the hole in the roof.

“The structural analysis indicates that there is potential for subfloors, but there is unfortunately no evidence to suggest they were built.”

Steve squinted at the hologram. He would just have to see tomorrow if there was a basement.

“Alright. Thank you, Jarvis.”

“Always a pleasure, Captain Rogers.”

Steve absentmindedly waved away the hologram of the building, pushing it to one corner of the desk. There was little he could do about it now.

He pulled out some different paperwork, older and crinkled on the edges, yellow and starchy, reading it for what had to have been the thousandth time. He had it memorized. He had scribbled guesses about the blacked-out text in the margins of files with redacted information, and had finished translations of all the pages in anything other than English. He knew everything about what was written on the pages, and then he learned everything about the pages themselves. Where they were printed, stored, moved to. He had lists of whose fingerprints had touched the papers before it had come into his hands, with all the information he could get on those people in another folder, and then he knew everything about the families of the people whose fingerprints were on the papers.

The schematics with the Winter Soldier’s metal arm still sent a chill down Steve’s spine. The dozen upon dozens of times he had flipped to this page in the file, and still he hated it. It made his stomach twist inside of him. He could not remember hating something the way he hated this. _Maybe the war._ He remembered hating the damned war. But he hated that in a vague, ever-present sort of way — _“I don’t like bullies,”_ he had said — it seemed like years ago; seemed like last week. The metal arm was a different kind of bile in his mouth.

“Jarvis, pull up that anatomy text I was reading earlier, please?”

“Accessing it now, sir. A new chapter, perhaps? Or shall we start from where you left off?”

“Where I left off.”

“Of course sir.”

Steve’s knowledge of the human body began with figure drawing classes before his serum and had ended with battlefield first aid during the war. But you could find anything online these days. “Chapter 7, The Nervous System,” opened up, floating above his desk, and Steve idly pulled up the holographic display and tossed it over to the couch where it hovered above the glass coffee table waiting for him. He sat and opened his fingers in the air in front of him and the diagram from the anatomy text zoomed in, focusing on the shoulder. Looking at the old, worn out page in his hand, and the glowing hologram in front of him just confirmed what he already knew. But he had to check again. There always could be something that he might have missed. _Looking at it with fresh eyes will help_ , he told himself. He told himself that every day.

The arm could not be removed.

It was too deeply integrated into Bucky’s body. The wires of it went deep into his arm, his shoulder, his back, his spine. If Steve was reading the page right, and he liked to think he was, the wires, the pieces of the arm deep in his body were at least touching, if not wrapping entirely around Bucky’s spinal cord. With a bite to the inside of his cheek, Steve set the file down onto the coffee table.

Steve felt sick to his stomach.

“Mister Stark is coming to your floor, sir.” Jarvis stated, shaking Steve from his stupor.

Steve snagged the file and walked it back over to the desk, shutting it in. _Outta sight, outta mind._

“Why do you keep turning off my security cameras?” Tony asked, walking into the living room, rolling up his sleeves sloppily.

“Morning, Tony.”

“Cap, I’m serious.”

“Can you be serious? Is that a setting you have?”

“Yeah man, the suit shoves a massive piece up my—“

“Can I help you?” Steve asked, holding up his hand hoping it would shut Tony up.

“Yes. I want to know why you’re turning off the security cameras in here?”

“You spying on me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We’re worried about you, and you keep turning off the cameras.”

The statement threw Steve off. He gaped a little at the man. “Tony, I’m fine. I just like a little privacy. Call me old fashioned. You always do anyway.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Tony gave him an odd look. “Yeah, alright. Use ‘privacy mode’ next time. It doesn’t scare me as much. Every time you turn the cameras off I freak and have to check that you haven’t activated one of your panic rooms or something.”

“I have panic rooms?”

“Your pantry and bedroom closet both. You hop in, tell Jarvis and you’re locked up until you unlock it or I override it. I told you that, didn’t I? When you first showed up?”

“You might’ve.”

“Who knows at this point?” Tony sauntered back a few paces before finally turning around and heading out the door with a wave. “We’re thinking Chinese for dinner. You interested?”

“Do the place on 23rd. Their chow mein is better.”

“Sure thing, Cap. Hey, I like the beard by the way.”  Steve touched his face and realized there was a layer of furry stubble. He could not actually remember the last time he shaved. “Darker than I would have thought.” 

“Trying something new,” Steve lied.

“It’s a good look. Right. Jarvis, cameras on, privacy mode. And Chinese from the place on 23rd. Extra chow mein.” He slapped the doorway on his way out to the sound of his AI’s dutiful, _“Yes sir.”_

Tony was gone, Steve let out a soft but still tense sigh as he stood in front of his desk, forcing himself to think of the op tomorrow, think about why Tony, of all people, was worried, think about Hydra bases on his list. Anything except the schematics of the metal arm in the desk.


	3. Chapter 3

Steve walked down into the gym, wrapping his knuckles as he went. Gym was a paltry word for what Tony had built. Two floors, multiple rooms; it was really a veritable sports complex. Two ranges, a training room complete with fighting simulations, a boxing ring, an arsenal of practice weapons, whatever you could think of, it was there; or it would be the next time you visited if you asked nice enough. And Tony seemed to have an unlimited supply of punching bags. Steve considered asking if the engineer wanted to make special, reinforced bags, but that felt like admitting he had a problem in the first place.

His shield was there too; fished out from the Potomac and gathering dust in one of the storage lockers. Steve tried not to think about it.

He was walking past the firing range and was surprised to see not just Clint but Thor wielding one of Clint’s “pimped-out bows” as Tony liked to call them, and shooting arrows quickly at the moving targets, hitting each one.

Natasha turned up at his side, and opened the sliding window to hear the two men joking as Thor shot, leaning on the frame. Steve now could hear each little _fwap! fwap! fwap!_ as Thor hit target after target. When the program finished, Thor handed the bow back to Clint with a laugh, stretching his arms across his chest and rolling his shoulders.

“Program complete with 91.7% of targets eliminated,” Jarvis’s voice sounded through the firing range.

“Not too bad,” Natasha said with a smile. Clint and Thor both turned at the sound smiling back.

Steve tried not to scoff. It was more than ‘not too bad.’ It was damned impressive. He had gone in a few times with Natasha and shot his pistol at the moving targets. His highest score was an 84%, and he had been trying exceptionally hard that time, if only because Natasha got an 83%, and he wanted to beat her. It was only afterwards she told him she had done that with her left hand, and was standing pretty at a 97% with her right. Steve could shoot, but accuracy was not his strong suit, though he thought maybe he might do better in the field than in simulations. He was not above admitting that using the shield, hand-to-hand combat and being intimidatingly ‘Captain America’ were what got him through a fight more often than not. He could not even conceive of using a bow and arrow here.

“Thank you,” Thor replied looking up at them. “Still no match for Barton, but few are.”

“Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“It was required of me as a prince of Asgard. I am proficient in most types of weaponry.”

“Can you shoot a gun?” Steve asked.

“No, but Jarvis and the scoreboard tells me that neither can you,” Thor replied with a grin. Nat and Clint both laughed.

“Yeah, well, that’s why I use the shield.” He felt himself turning up the bashful charm he used back during the USO tour. Easy jokes, distance, self deprecation. _Every bond you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun!_ He had to get out of there. He waved. “Well, I’ll see you all later.”

He saw all three of them slump little, disappointed, before tearing away and heading further into the gym and down towards the punching bags. He had felt Thor trying to meet his gaze as he left, but the sincere blue eyes were the last thing he wanted to see.

“Hey, wanna spar?” Natasha came up behind him, catching up easily even though he had broken out into a jog.

“Um—” 

“Come on. Get some of that tension out of you.”

_“Let us spar, fight out this ill humor,”_ Thor had said.

The last place Steve wanted to be was in the sparring room. He had not let himself in ever since that night with Thor. If he was being honest with himself he was not he wanted to go in ever again. But now Natasha was dragging him that way and he had no choice.

“I was really only going to punch the bag, let out some steam,” he protested weakly.

“You’ve been only punching bags for ages, and it has not done you any good. Come on.”

He held open the door for her and she stepped into the training room.

“Mat or ring today?”

“Ring.” He looked over at the mat and forced down thoughts of sparing there with Thor the other night. He crawled up onto the boxing ring, and held the rope up for her to slide through.

“Gonna take your sweatshirt off?” she asked.

“No, not this time.”

His eyes flicked over to wall where Thor had pinned him, squeezing his broken arm, putting his lips on Steve’s. He forced himself to look away, back at Natasha, raising his hands to start when—

Natasha punched him in the jaw, hard enough to send him crashing down face first onto the floor of the ring.

“Ow.”

“You weren’t paying attention.”

Steve scoffed, rubbing at his jaw. “No, I guess I wasn’t.”

“That’ll get you killed.”

“You’re probably right,” he hummed in response, heaving himself up to his feet.

“What’s going on with you, Steve?” she asked as they started bouncing in the ring. He half-heartedly shot a jab that she easily dodged.

“Just having a rough few days. The op tomorrow’ll help. Distract me, I guess.”

“I was thinking of calling Sam back up,” she said, kicking at Steve’s head; he dodged it, but could have dodged faster.

Steve tried not to think about the Singapore mission, looking for Bucky, flying in Stark’s plane back to the states as he held a thick bandage to Sam’s throat. Sam trusted him, Sam’s eyes met his even as he almost bled out on the plane and still trusted him, — _“It’s okay,”_ Sam said softly. _“Wasn’t your fault, man.”_ He had coughed, the sound gurgling and wet, and Steve watched in horror as Sam’s eyes slid closed for a minute; _I did this, I did this, I did this_ — If Steve had been punching the bag he would have split the seam thinking of that. He forced himself back into the present.

“I thought he was still on the mend.”

“He is. He’s good in the field obviously, but I was looking at his files and his tactical skills are pretty decent. He mentioned wanting to help when I told him I was looking for new Avengers recruits. He could do observation stuff with Bruce until he’s ready to party with the rest of us.”

“You talked to him?”

“He’s my friend too.”

“No, I meant— I just haven’t called him recently.”

She hopped up onto the corner post of the ring and landed on Steve’s shoulders before he could blink, and she pulled him down flat on his back with a solid _THUMP._

“He said he’s interested, but it’ll be on and off until he can find a replacement down at the VA and get his mom settled in her new place. But physically he’s out of the woods, clean bill of health despite what happened.” She peered down at him as he lay on the floor of the ring trying to catch his breath.

“So you already called him?” Steve asked, panting. “Why are you even asking me?”

“Not asking. I just thought you’d be happy about the idea of your friend staying in the tower with us.”

Her face, as always was unreadable, but she sounded sincere. “I am happy. It’s a good idea.”

“Good.”

He sighed and his head fell back onto the floor and he stared up at the ceiling.

“You’ll be okay for the op tomorrow? You’re barely functioning now, Stevie.”

“Don’t call me Stevie.” He groaned as he pulled himself up to sit, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m fine,” he lied. “It’s like I said, just a rough few days.”

“Alright.” Steve could tell she didn’t believe him. “You’re no fun right now, I’m gonna ask Clint and Thor to spar. Go punch your bag.”

“Yes ma’am.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

“I make Clint,” Natasha said as they walked up to the building down the grimy sidewalk, zipping up her sweatshirt. It was too early for the streets to be bustling, but there were the beginnings of people starting to head to work and taxis beginning their routes. Natasha and Thor were pretending to joke about something, and she laughed at him, punching him lightly in the arm. Steve jogged behind them, hat low on his face, fake glasses pinching his nose a little. Thor was wearing a hoodie and jeans and carrying backpack. It was hard to tell, but at the right angle the outline of his hammer was visible through the blue canvass. Steve felt naked without his shield, but he had not carried it since he dropped it in the Potomac anyway. It was available, but it just didn’t—

They had decided on no weapons anyway. That did not stop Steve from carrying a small gun in his belt, Thor from bringing the hammer, and Natasha from just walking and breathing. 

“And I make you guys. Look at you, you could be college kids in those getups!” said Clint’s voice in Steve’s earpiece.

“That’s the idea,” Nat replied never breaking stride.

“All good from up here,” Tony said in their ears. “Clint, did you see the legs on that blond in the red skirt?”

“I did.”

“I love New York.”

Steve and Natasha both scoffed, but of all things it was Thor who murmured, “Do not be crude.”

“You guys turn into such frat boys when you’re stuck together, I swear,” Natasha said. Clint and Tony’s chuckles sounded through the earpieces.

Steve peered around trying to look nonchalant and saw Clint sitting at a cafe table pretending to read a book. Clint waggled his eyebrows just the tiniest bit at Steve across the street, and gave a very small toast with his coffee cup before taking a sip. Steve sighed and tried to look disapproving, but did not have the mental energy to make it look convincing. Clint chuckled once more and pretended to go back to his book.

They walked up the steps to the building, normal as can be, and stood in front of the padlocked gate.

“Thor, I think you have the key,” Natasha said.

He hummed in response, and grabbed the padlock and crushed it in his hand, wrenching it off the gate as easily as if he were opening a stubborn jar of jam. They slipped in and pushed the gate closed behind them, all three of them wincing at the loud squeal of the rusting metal hinges. Steve pulled off his fake glasses and shoved them in his pocket and then his hat, pushing his hair back as Natasha took it from him sticking it in a purse at her hip.

They walked up more stairs into a grand, high ceilinged atrium. Above them were large, curving stained glass windows, and below them marble tile that echoed their footsteps. It would have been beautiful if the windows above were not broken and dirty, and the floors below were not cracked, grimy and covered in trash and papers, wet and smelly from old rain. Far away there was the faint sound of a faucet dripping ceaselessly, echoing out into the rest of the building; Steve could hear the scurrying of small clawed feet within the walls.

There was a statue in the middle of the room, standing in a dusty sunbeam. It was [a great, bronze lion](http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lion_au_serpent) with its paw pinning down a hissing snake, on top of a white marble base. Steve stepped towards it, squinting. The art student in him could not help but admire it. The lion’s face was pulled back in a vicious snarl, contorted, teeth-bared. The snake was small, staring up at the lion, trapped, scared. Steve knew that he should not empathize with the snake, but he could not help but feel just a small ounce of pity for the creature. It was fear in the face of death. It was resignation in the face of death. He blinked after a moment and pulled back, realizing he was less than a foot away, studying it.

“Right, the computers should be back this way,” Natasha said. Steve followed her and Thor silently through the building, turning to check no one was following.

He turned back, eyes drawn to the statue for one last glance as they reached the door that led further on into the building. The strong, carved back of the lion hunched over, tail curled around it’s body. As Steve looked however, something else caught his eye. The base of the tail was not attached to the body. There was a gap.

“Guys, hang on.”

“We can do some art shows later, Rogers.”

“Just— wait.”

Steve jogged back up to the Lion and peered close to the tail. Then, not knowing what else to do, he reached out and pulled it. The marble statue base swung around slowly, and revealed a dusty, dark set of stairs.

_A basement,_ Steve thought to himself. _Of course._

“This was not shown in the model of the building,” Thor observed. “I wondered if perhaps there could be such a room, but dismissed it. I assumed Stark and his scanners would have seen it.”

“Clint, Tony, we’ve got a secret, hidden passageway here.” Natasha said into her earpiece.

“I’ve always wanted one of those,” Clint replied. “Do you think it’s worth checking out?”

“I’d think so,” Steve said. 

“Still no other people in the building according to my sensors. Unless they’re very cold,” said Tony.

Steve peered down the stairs into the dark passage below. “Right. You and Thor go to the computers, I scope out the basement. We meet back here in fifteen.”

“No. Thor goes with you. I’ve got the tech on my own, but uncharted territory calls for two people.” Steve opened his mouth, about to argue. “Or should we call in Clint? Bring more attention to the building we’re breaking into?”

Steve clenched his jaw, “Fine.”

Steve headed down the stairs, Thor close behind, Steve pulling a small but bright flashlight out from his pocket as he walked. He heard Thor unzipping his bag, and taking out the hammer behind him. The basement room filled with a dim light, and Steve turned and saw that the hammer was glowing faintly at Thor’s side, shining enough light to see into the corners of the dark room. 

The basement was in as much disarray as above; quickly abandoned, most everything left behind. They walked forward towards the only door and Steve pocketed his flashlight and pulled out the Glock from the holster on his hip. It was heavy in his hand, heavier than the old M19 he used back in Europe — _what was it? A Colt? Maybe_. — but it was also more powerful, did not jam as much.

“I thought we were not bringing weapons, Captain,” Thor said softly as they hovered in front of the door.

“Says the guy with the mountain breaking hammer.”

“Mjölnir is not just a weapon, she is a powerful tool. As good at rebuilding as she is at destruction.”

“Yeah, well, if I find a nail that needs to be pounded I’ll let you know.” Steve tried not to read into his words as soon as they left his mouth; ‘ _Pounded’ Steve? Really?_ He let out a huff. “You ready?”

“Aye.”

Steve flung the door open and rushed in, checking the corners, looking for anyone hostile, _looking for Bucky_ , he thought in the back of his mind. But no one was there. The door opened up to metal scaffolding, and Steve took a step forward and leaned over the railing, looking down two stories to an open room. A few lights flickered on at their arrival casting an eerie glow around them full of long shadows, but most had burned out, leaving the whole place still relatively dark. Down below them was a lab with an operating table, computers, floodlights all surrounding a chair with intense restraints made of leather and metal. The floor where he and Thor stood was merely an open hall leading towards the stairs down into the great pit below them.

“What did they keep here, that so justified these weapons poised to kill it?” Thor asked, words echoing off the walls.

“What?”

Thor pointed with Mjölnir towards the four corners of pit where, at each of the three levels, there were automatic mounted guns, abandoned, but still pointing towards the center of the room; towards the chair. “Whatever was here once was not friend to the Hydra. So what was it? Or who?”

“Let’s find out,” Steve said, walking towards the railing. It was high, and his stomach lurched, but it was not as high as some of the jumps he made. With a huff of breath he flung himself over easily, — _“Steve! Wait!”_ Thor called out, but Steve barely heard him — falling down the two stories and landing into a crouch at the bottom, gun poised, ready for action. Thor landed with a thud next to him a moment later, hammer slowing down in his grip.

“You should not have done that.”

“Come on.” Steve turned around the room once more, seeing a large security bay door that was invisible from the high angle of the scaffolding above, checking they were still clear, and holstering his gun. Thor scoffed and walked to the chair, looking at it with a pale face, running his hand along the plastic, and fingering the leather restraint straps, and the metal cuffs. Steve stepped over to the computer silently, expecting it to be wiped. With a few keystrokes, however, it turned on, asking for a password.

“Hey Natasha? Can you hear me?” Steve said, poking at his earpiece.

“Loud and clear, Cap.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know the password to a secret Hydra computer that we found would you?”

“As a matter of fact, I might. Try this.” She listed off a long string of letters and numbers and Steve dutifully typed them in and the program opened.

“We should put this on your disk and have Tony analyze it, Steven,” Thor said leaning over his shoulder to peer down at the screen.

“I will. I just want to make sure it is worth the trouble.”

He was randomly clicking around the files, leaning over the chair at the desk not bothering to sit down. He came upon some old archived surveillance videos. He opened one at random, and the video opened, revealing three camera angles on the open lab they were standing in now, grainy but relatively clear. Steve peered up towards where the cameras should be and saw them, gathering dust and giving no indication they were still filming.

On the video was a few doctors looking at charts, inputting data into the computers, talking quietly. Then at the sound of a loud klaxon alarm the large bay door opened. Dozens of men with guns filed in, surrounding one soldier. The guns were not trained on the doctors, but Steve could tell the soldiers were poised and ready, bodies tense, fixed on the one in the center. The man with the metal arm. Steve’s breath caught in his throat.

“Is that—” Thor asked.

Steve did not answer as he watched on the small screen as Bucky saw the chair in the center of the lab and froze. Immediately the guns were all drawn, all pointing at Bucky as he stood in the room, still as statue.

_“On the chair, Soldier,”_ a soldier said. Then he barked something in Russian.

Bucky did not move. The Hydra soldiers stepped closer, and Bucky still did not move, but Steve could see his body shaking where he stood, gasping for breath. In an instant, the soldiers, ten in all, were on him; a kick to the back of the leg, dropping Bucky on the ground, a butt of a rifle to his head, drawing blood. The soldiers dragged his body up, and Bucky finally started fighting, kicking and screaming as he was forced into the chair. He landed one solid punch before his metal hand was strapped down. One soldier put his arm around Bucky’s throat, squeezing mercilessly as Bucky heaved and thrashed against the hands and bindings. He started to slow, and his face was changing colors from the lack of oxygen. Finally the headpiece inched down and held him tight, and the soldier on his throat let go. Just as Bucky took a breath another hand shoved something into his mouth. A doctor flipped a switch. The lights flickered and Bucky screamed through the gag in his mouth. And then he kept screaming as the machine tortured him. Long, hard, anguished, guttural cries sounded out through the computer.

Thor pushed Steve aside and closed the file, ending the video, pitching them into silence. Steve moved to go back, to see the next video, to see what happened to Bucky but Thor stood in his way, holding him away with a thick arm.

“Thor, move.” He could barely hear himself over the pounding of his blood in his ears.

“No, we should take this to Stark to be analyzed.”

“Damn it, Thor.”

“You do not need to see anymore.”

“The hell I don’t.”

“Give me the disk, I’ll do it myself. Go upstairs.”

Without thinking Steve swung at Thor, fist tight, arm tense. Thor easily blocked it with a bruising strike. Then Steve pushed at Thor and the other man turned and shoved right back, pushing Steve down onto the ground where he fell, head cracking on the floor behind him. Steve blinked in the dim lights for a moment, before Thor stepped into his vision, offering a hand. Steve ignored it, climbing to his feet on his own, wiping his hand over his face.

“Give me the disk, Steven.”

Steve fished in his pockets for the disk, turning away from Thor. His eyes fell on the chair in the center of the room. Bucky had been in that chair. Looking at it closely now, Steve saw there was dried blood on the straps, on the floor below. _Why hadn’t he noticed that before?_ Looking at it now, he could almost feel the metallic sting of blood, Bucky’s dried blood, in his nostrils. His stomach clenched inside of him. He kept hearing Bucky screaming and screaming—

_“Oh god.”_

Without warning, he leaned over and vomited on the ground. He collapsed to his knees with a dull thud, coughing and sputtering. He felt Thor’s hand, bracing and warm, on the back of his neck after a few moments, and all he wanted to do was shove it off, but he could not bring himself to do it. He reached up, and lay his hand over Thor’s for an instant, before leaning back and finally giving Thor the disk. Thor stepped back to the computer, leaving Steve inches away from the puddle of puke on the ground. The stench filled Steve’s nose, Steve’s mouth.

He felt the hard cement against his knees. He pulled out the Glock, aiming at the chair, and fired, emptying the chamber, Thor jumping in shock at the corner of his eye. The loud shots echoed into the lab, and echoed in his eardrums. Twelve seconds of respite from Bucky’s screaming. Thor wrenched the gun from his hand.

Eleven holes in the chair. _“91.7% Captain Rogers,”_ Steve imagined Jarvis saying. _“A new record.”_

 


	5. Chapter 5

“Captain, we need that artifact in one piece, or this all goes to hell, do you hear me?”

“I copy.”

Another mission, only a day after the op in the bank. Steve knew if Fury and Hill had not called them in for this favor, he would probably be sitting in the conference room trying to explain himself to the others. Why did he shoot the chair? What did he think he was doing? But Steve would not be able to say anyway, and a perfect twist of fate left him without having to answer the question at all. Instead he and the others were taking out a large Hydra base in Hoboken of all places; a science wing that was collecting off-world artifacts. Hill and Fury had managed to smuggle some of them out, along with Coulson’s team, but a small group of Hydra operatives broke off, carrying the last piece out, lost in the confusion of the fighting. Clint and Steve were the ones going after it.

Agent Hill’s voice was sounding in his earpiece as he thundered up the stairs, Clint behind him, both of them panting and heaving themselves up. Every now and then she would address Steve and Clint, but she was orchestrating the entire battle. Natasha was with Coulson’s team in an all-out firefight, Tony and Bruce were doing tech-uplinks trying to keep the Hydra server from self-destructing and Thor was on the perimeter, fighting all Hydra who tried to escape. Three Hydra soldiers were sprinting up ahead of them, one of them carrying a glowing, red orb. He had lost count of the levels he had scaled, fifteen? Maybe twenty floors up, and still they kept climbing.

“Do they have an escape route?” He heard Clint call behind him.

“Unknown,” replied Hill. “Thor, Hydra agents have hostages in the corner building east of you.”

“Aye. I see them.”

Steve saw lightning flash briefly out the window as he kept running. He almost missed it when the Hydra agents slammed through a door, doubling back to follow after them, cursing himself for the lost momentum. Once through the door, it was only a microsecond before he felt Clint tug him down behind an office desk and he heard the sound of dozens of guns being fired over his head.

“We ain’t got time for this shit,” Clint muttered, pressing a button on his bow and pulling an arrow from his quiver. “Pop your head out the side, get their attention.”

“Sure,” Steve replied between pants, leaning to the side of the desk before Clint grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Oh my god, _dude_ , I was joking. Here.” He handed Steve one of his arrows and put a red handkerchief on it. “Wave that over there; draw their fire. ” Steve nodded. “And dude, seriously don’t ever stick your head out. We need that part of you without holes.”

Steve nodded dumbly. “Right. Yeah.”

Steve waved the arrow out at the side of the desk and immediately all the Hydra agents fired in that direction. Clint used the distraction to fire an arrow over the desk into the center of the throng, and he ducked down pulling Steve into his chest as the arrow detonated with a thunderous crash, breaking the windows and taking out all the Hydra agents at once.

Clint and Steve jumped up and saw one lone Hydra agent, masked, still standing, still holding the red orb.

“We have our orders. If Hydra does not have the orb, no one does. Cut off one head, two more will take its place!”

 _“We need that artifact.”_ That’s what Hill had said. Steve’s eyes locked on the glowing orb.

Several things happened at once. The Hydra agent threw the orb out the shattered window. Clint shot the agent. Steve’s stomach dropped as he watched the orb start flying. Steve jumped out the window after the orb, swatting it back into the building towards Clint.

Then Steve was falling out the window.

“Tony! Steve needs a catch!” He heard Clint say through the earpiece. _“Oh shit!”_ The distant sound of gunshots came from the broken window as Steve fell.

“I’m too far!” Tony said.

_What?_

He flailed against gravity, arms and legs wildly spinning as he fell. He reached for his back, for his shield before remembering he did not bring it. He stopped bringing it on missions. _The gym, the storage locker;_ Steve could see it in his mind’s eye. The vibranium would not absorb this impact. In the nanoseconds he had left he realized how badly this was going to hurt. He might survive it, but he would wish he hadn’t. As the road, the sidewalk, the cars, the food truck below him grew closer and closer, he finally screamed.

Just as he was about to hit the pavement, he saw a flurry of red, and felt a thick body slam into his side, breaking his fall. It was still hard enough to knock the wind out of Steve. They flew through the air for about thirty feet before Thor landed and dropped him on the ground. He gasped, trying to get air into his lungs. _Not dead, not hurt, not dead, not hurt. I’m fine._ The thought of it left him reeling. 

Steve stood up and dusted himself off, feeling slightly dazed. He tapped his earpiece; “Clint, you’ve got the orb?” _You’re on the clock, Steve. Do the job._

He didn’t hear Clint’s response. Thor grabbed him by the collar and shook him.

“What were you thinking?!” He cried. Steve knew Thor was loud, but his blood froze as the giant in front of him yelled in his face, holding him tight at the shoulders. “Do you mean to kill yourself? Is this your plan?”

Steve shoved Thor back shouting, “I thought I had the shield!”

“But you didn’t! And if you had would that have stopped you from jumping from that height in the first place? To what end?! Since when did you become so reckless, so foolhardy?”

“They threw the orb—“

“Damn the orb! It is not worth your life!”

That stung Steve, but he could not say why. He shrank back a step from Thor. The fight was over, and the others had started cleanup, all dutifully not looking at where Steve and Thor were arguing. “I thought I had the shield,” he said again, more softly now. Maybe he was just mouthing the words. “The orb— I thought I had the shield.”

“You are lost, Steven.” That stung too. Thor made as to reach for Steve’s face but Steve flinched, and Thor’s hand dropped. Thor turned away, and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, giving it a small squeeze — Steve thought it felt more like Thor was making sure he was actually there, more than anything else — before he walked on towards Coulson’s team who were loading Hydra agents into a van.

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Steve moaned as soft lips pressed against his neck, sending electricity through his body. One hand tangled in long blond hair, the other ran down Thor’s muscled back, along his spine. It was warm everywhere. Steve gently pulled Thor’s head away from his neck and met his eye. Thor smiled, and Steve could not help but beam back up at him._

_Thor brought his hand up to stroke Steve’s face and Steve flinched at the cold, chrome metal— “What?”_

_Thor’s arm was like Bucky’s. Steve stared at it. Thor bent down to kiss Steve as if nothing was wrong. But something was wrong; a drop of blood fell from Thor’s nose and hit Steve’s face. Thor’s lips pressed against Steve’s and Steve could not help but moan into his mouth, hips bucking up against Thor’s, perfect hot friction._

_The metal hand ran through Steve’s hair; and snow was falling around them on the bed. It was cold._

_“I’m sorry,” Steve whispered._

_“You should be,” Thor replied. He looked so sad all of a sudden. So disappointed._

_The metal hand was so cold against his skin—_

* * *

 

“You’re really worried, Thor?” Natasha asked.

Steve was shaking off the last bits of forgotten dream as he was about to step into the community kitchen to pour himself some coffee. He had jerked awake with a yell that morning, but within moments whatever he had seen in his mind was gone and all he was left with was his heart hammering in his chest and a flagging erection. Steve paused before the doorway of the kitchen, pulling back to stand against the wall to hear the conversation; his heart thudding dully in his chest. He did not like snooping like this but knew instantly they were speaking about him. His body thrummed with the beginnings of adrenaline. The tension he felt when he was about to fight. He was on the defensive in an instant, waiting.

“He is not well,” Thor’s voice sounded quietly into the hall.

“We all have bad days,” Clint said. “He just needs time to clear his head.”

“This isn’t a bad day. It’s a bad six? Seven months?” That was Sam’s voice through a speaker phone. Steve could not help the small pang of betrayal strum through him at that.

“It’s not like it was back at SHIELD,” Natasha said. “We can’t stop him or give him forced-leave. Even if we could, he would just use it to hunt for Sargent Barnes. You can see it written all over him.”

“I admire him for wanting to find his friend, truly, but Steven is not the same man I met when we fought the chitauri together. Even a few months ago, before SHIELD fell, Jane and I saw him in Washington. He was not like this. Not this—” he paused and Steve could practically see his face in front him, struggling to find the apt word. “Despairing,” he finally murmured. “Lost.”

“He’s gone through a lot,” Clint replied.

“I remember he had been through much when I first met him, during my brother’s attack. Has he stopped since? Has he had rest? Respite from fighting?”

“Not really.”

“Jesus, I wish you told me it was this serious sooner.” Sam said

“I think we just didn’t want to notice it,” Clint said.

“I can try and come out sooner; get someone else to deal with my stuff maybe?” said Sam.

“No Sam, take care of what you need to take care of,” Natasha said. “We can watch over Steve until you get here.”

Thor let out a deep sigh.

“Listen big guy, we’re all worried about him, especially after the last few days,” Clint said. “The jump out the window? And when I heard those gunshots at the bank through the radio, I was up and across the street before I could even think. Tony practically came in through the roof. We all saw him there. And that was just from a video. Imagine what happens if he finds the guy? It’ll kill him.”

“His last encounter with the Winter Soldier was especially hard on him,” Natasha said softly. “We lost him in the Alps, and that hit him bad. He keeps chasing, but not catching. It’s bound to take its toll.”

“Yes, I arrived from Asgard after that had happened. He is a changed man. We—“

Steve tensed against the wall, holding his breath. The last thing he needed was Thor telling the others what had happened between them. The sparring match, Thor’s hand on his broken arm, Thor’s lips on his cock.

“We spoke. I could hardly recognize him. I’m still not sure I recognize him now.” Steve let out a soft breath of relief as Thor kept speaking, keeping their night a secret. “Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he has always been dark or lost, I just could not see it. I only saw the Captain, never Steven.”

“They’re the same guy,” Clint said.

“Are they?” Thor asked.

“Thor’s right.” Natasha said. “He is lost. He hasn’t been the same since D.C.I think we should talk with the others. Bruce and Tony.”

“And do what? Stage an intervention?”

“Maybe,” Natasha sighed.

Steve turned and walked back towards the elevator silently while the others kept talking, voices low. As he left he heard one last snippet of their conversation.

“You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you?”

“Maybe,” said Thor. “If only to himself.”

* * *

 

Steve stalked back into his apartment, and went to his own mini-kitchen, fiddling with the coffee machine. Coffee came in pods now. It was better than the stuff in the army, but it did not feel right. The one in the community kitchen was good old fashioned ground beans and hot water. But now he was not sure he was going to be going there again any time soon. He shoved his mug under the little plastic spout, tossed in a pod, pressed the button, and leaned back against the kitchen counter, breathing evenly, glaring at the tiny machine.

When the coffee was done, he walked into his living room once more.

“Jarvis, is Tony available?”

“He is in his lab. Were you visiting, or merely calling?”

“Calling please,”

“I’ll connect you.”

Steve sipped his coffee as he waited. On one of the glass windows ahead of him, Jarvis had projected a calling display with Tony’s picture, and Steve turned away focusing back on his coffee.

“Cap, you’re up late.”

“No, I’m up early. You’re up late.” Steve forced himself to keep his voice light.

“What can I do you for?”

“I was just wondering if uploaded those videos from the base the other day?” Casual. Cool. He was asking about office files, bookkeeping, the mundane minutia of their work. “I just wanted to start going over them.”

“Yeah— umm— _shit_ , about that—“ Tony cut off for a moment. Steve sipped his coffee, closing his eyes, pretending not to hear Tony whispering something to whoever else was standing with him, probably Bruce. He clenched his jaw. He would not be seeing the videos today. They were keeping it from him. “When you and Thor took it from the Hydra base, you picked up some weird encryption or something. Widow, Brucie-poo and I are working on it, but it’s gonna be a little while before we have the files freed up.”

“Please, don’t call me Brucie-poo,” Dr. Banner’s tired voice sounded in the background.

“How long of a while?”

“Day or two? Maybe more? Don’t want to risk losing anything.”

Steve sighed. “Right. Fine. No rush.”

“Okie doke. Later.”

The call disconnected and Steve found himself wandering over to his desk drawer. He pulled out the file again, flipping to the schematic for the Winter Soldier’s metal arm. He put his coffee down on the glass desk and sat down, rereading, rubbing his hand over his face. He was growing used to the beard but it was still new. Steve kept wondering if he should shave it off, because maybe Bucky would recognize him then, but he always tended to brush the thought away. If he went down that road too far, he starting thinking about reversing the serum in the end; giving Bucky the Steve he would truly remember. That was impossible, so he would sigh, rub his face once more, and force his mind to just move on.

The diagram of the metal arm stared up at him from the folder in his lap. 

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“What can you do with videos? I know Tony can do fancy things to analyze them, but can I do that without him?”

“Certainly. I am programmed to perform multiple functions with videos. Did you have something specific in mind?”

“If I showed you a video of a machine could you show me how it was working?”

“Most likely, sir. My understanding of mechanics is as extensive as Mr. Stark’s. Analyzing a video in that capacity should not be a problem.”

“And can you access any videos from the event in D.C.? The fight on the overpass?”

“I can. Would you like to view it?”

“Please.”

“Give me a moment.”

Steve sat back, and after a few seconds a compilation of videos hovered in front of him over the desk; a mix of security cam footage, helicopter news repots and shaky cell-phone videos. Steve watched as he and Bucky fought on the screens, the tiny squares catching different angles of their vicious fight. Steve winced as he remembered the punches and kicks thrown. 

_“Bucky?”_

_“Who the hell is Bucky?”_

“Jarvis, can you tell me anything about the metal arm in the video?”

“The machine is complicated.” _It’s not a machine. It’s a nightmare._ “It might take more time to process. I can write up a report when I conclude. Would that be acceptable?”

“Yes, that would be alright. Just–“ he sighed, rubbing his hand down his face once more. “Don’t tell Tony, please.”

“I will not alert him to your request but if he inquires directly I cannot withhold any information. Would you like to continue?”

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s fine.”

_It’s not a machine. It’s an open, gaping wound._


	7. Chapter 7

They all gathered around in the common room, boxes of pizza scattered on the various surfaces, bottles of beer in hand. Steve sat apart on a solitary chair, while the others were bunching up on the couches or on the floor. He did not actually even want to be here, but knew it would be worse to shy away from the invite. The movie had finished though Steve had not really been paying attention. Something about a pink hotel and the staff working there. Throughout the night Steve caught the others giving him careful glances, checking up on him, watching his reactions to funny scenes. Steve felt like he was on stage, just like it was back in the forties; the chorus girls would show up any minute and start singing again. Pepper walked back in from the hall after finishing a phone call and sat on the arm of the sofa closest to Tony, leaning down to kiss him

“Ew! Get a room!” Clint said, throwing a napkin at them.

“Says the man who is staying in the rooms I own. I could kick you out, Barton. You could be homeless.”

“You know I actually own my apartment building down in Bed-stuy? I have a home. I just like eating your food.”

“And sleeping in Natasha’s bed.”

“Hey now. I sleep on her couch some nights — surprisingly comfy, and I’m sure that’s all due to Pepper’s decision making,” he nodded at Pepper who smiled back at him, demurely sipping Tony’s beer. “Besides, the only guy she’s been kissing lately is Steve.”

“Through no fault of my own, all the good guys are elsewhere,” added Natasha. “Besides, Steve’s breath isn’t nearly as bad as yours.”

“Wait, what?” Bruce asked.

Steve felt all eyes fall on him in an instant. For an moment even he was confused about the exchange. He had barely been paying attention. And at the idea of kissing he had inadvertently flashed back briefly to his night with Thor. The patient, firm mouth on his, the body heat surrounding him—

“Um…” Natasha met his eye, brow raised. “Oh that?” He remembered the mall in D.C., the escalator, his heart thudding far too fast to process anything anyway, and then Natasha’s soft, expert lips on his. “That was when we were on the run. Wasn’t anything.” Steve said hastily.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it was Steve’s first kiss since World War Two,” Natasha said, taking another sip of beer.

“It was not my first kiss since—” Steve huffed, ignoring the others and pretending to lean forward to find another piece of pizza, if only to avoid making eye contact with the rest of them. He took a large bite. He thought maybe he would not have to answer questions if he was chewing. He was wrong

“But she’s been the only once since, right?” Clint asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t blame you. She does this thing with her tongue that—“ Natasha swatted him with a pillow and he and Tony broke into a fit of giggles, bumping fists.

“Frat boys, I swear.”

Steve looked up, eyes immediately flashing to Thor, who was watching the proceedings quietly, drinking his beer and no longer smiling.

“Yeah,” Steve lied. “Only kiss since then.”

He found Thor’s eyes, daring him to say otherwise. Thor was silent, but his gaze did not stray from Steve’s eyes. Steve finally pulled away, violently pushing down any thoughts of Thor’s mouth on his own. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, fingers brushing his new beard. He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the scratchy hair on his palm. He realized with a jolt that it felt the same as Thor’s. The scratch of it on his palm was the same as the scratch of it on his neck, his thighs— He quickly pulled his hand away, masking the jerky movement with a grab for his bottle of beer.

“I’m sure all the girls are lining up though, huh Cap?” Tony asked. “A lot of boys too, I’ll bet.”

“Is that a thing you’ve done?” Clint asked. “You know, guys?”

“We could make a few dozen academics ecstatic if you have,” added Bruce with a soft smile.

“Yeah, even I’ve read at least two or three essays about you and Barnes.” Natasha hit Clint with the pillow and a let out a small hiss of breath. They all fell silent staring at Steve, except for Clint who realized his blunder and was hiding his head in his hands. “Shit. Sorry man. That was— sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Steve lied. He had been lying a lot recently. It was getting easy, and his stomach twisted at the thought of that. “Nothing happened between me and Buck.”

_But I wanted it to,_ Steve thought silently to himself, before tamping it down. That was a can of worms he was not opening ever. If he thought about it, especially after what had happened with Thor, knowing how his body reacted to touch like that now, knowing that he even made sounds like the ones he made that night, he’d lose himself in his head, wondering, obsessing, _breaking_. 

“And no guys since I—”  _woke from the dead_ “—was found. Once in the thirties, back when I was still small, before the serum. It was different back then. You got caught doing something like that it could get you beat up or killed. It could happen now, it just hasn’t yet. Besides, it didn’t seem to matter that much, especially once the war started. Figured I would wait.”

“Well, you’re young,” Bruce said. “You’ve got plenty of time.”

“I’m a nonagenarian, Buce,” Steve replied dryly.

“You’re only twenty-six. We’re not counting the frozen years.”

“Wait, really? Twenty-six?” Pepper asked. “I thought you were older. Like in your mid-thirties when you—“ _Died, just say it_ , Steve thought. “When the plane went down.”

“I had just turned twenty-five.”

“Christ, you’re a child,” Clint murmured. 

All eyes were definitely on him now, and Steve felt a flush rise on his cheeks. He had never really made note of anyone else’s age. There always seemed to be much more important things to worry about. Bruce and Tony were the oldest, then Clint, then Natasha. Thor did not count, he was thousands of years old. He thought of everyone he knew. Even Pepper and Sam Wilson were in their mid-thirties. Where did that leave Steve? Twenty-six year-olds in this world were still in school sometimes, working in coffee shops, trying to make rent. Bucky was the only person who was close to his age, both physically and spiritually. Steve forced himself not to think about that.

“Here, let me clean up the boxes. I need to stretch my legs,” Steve said quickly, grabbing the pizza boxes and taking them to the kitchen, desperate to get away from the eyes on him. “You guys probably want to start the next movie.”

“Allow me to help,” Thor rumbled gently rising from the couch and starting to collect empty beer bottles.

Steve kept his face painfully neutral as he stepped over legs and gathered pizza boxes. His shoulders were tense as he felt Thor walk behind him out of the room. They made their way into the kitchen. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The bottles clinked loudly as Thor put them in the bin by the door. Steve finally ventured a look to Thor. He saw the same pity he had seen the night they spent together and it made his stomach churn angrily. He scoffed and turned away, but he could not go back to the common room; Thor was standing in the doorway, and Steve did not want to get too close. 

“Steven,” he started, voice soft.

“What?”

“If I had known,” he began, speaking slowly, choosing his words very carefully. “About your past, your inexperience, your–” he struggled to find the word. “Your youth. I might not have approached you the way I had… that night.”

“But you did. Can’t change that now.”

“I did not mean to take advantage.”

Steve huffed, and looked around the kitchen for something else to focus on besides Thor. “You weren’t. I could have stopped it at any time. It’s fine.”

“Is it? I feel you are saying things simply to placate everyone around you. I don’t think things are fine for you. I want to help.”

“Things haven’t been fine for me for years, Thor,” he whispered low and fierce, a bubble of anger rising in his chest; honest, unbidden, unexpected. “I’m used to it. I don’t need your help.”

“Steve—“

“I’m fine.” _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine._

He shoved past Thor, and back through to the common area, tearing away from his thick, warm hand as Thor tried to stop him, wrapping fingers around his wrist; he was all but running from the kitchen. Steve mumbled something about heading to bed, and half-heartedly waved to the others before he walked towards the elevator and back to his floor.

* * *

 

Once he made out of the elevator into the safety of his apartment he fell back against the door; cool metal seeping through his shirt into his skin. He wanted to scream, but stayed quiet. _I’m fine._ He stared ahead into the dimly lit room trying to steady his breathing. Everything was wrong. He looked at the desk across the room. 

“Jarvis, how’s that report coming?” he asked the empty silence, voice dull in his throat.

“The report is 58% complete, Captain Rogers.”

“Can I see what you have so far?”

“Certainly.”

Steve pushed himself off from the wall, and opened the drawer with the file as the information Jarvis had acquired hovered over the desk. There were theoretical propositions about the makeup of the metal arm’s interior, a detailed description of movement abilities and limitations, how many metal plates actually made up the arm in the first place, but none of this was what Steve really needed. He sniffed, trying to keep his voice steady as he ran his hand over his face once more.

“Jarvis, from what you’ve seen so far, do you think the arm can be removed?”

“My report is not yet complete, Captain Rogers.”

“I know.”

“From the data gathered, I calculate a less than one percent chance the arm can be removed safely. From the muscle groups affected, to the body movement assessment, the arm is too deeply embedded into the Winter Soldier’s body. The musculature and nervous sys—“

“Right, thanks, Jarvis.”

“At your service, sir. I will have the report finished by the morning.”

“You know what, just stop the report. I’ve seen what I need to see.”

“I will save it to the server in case you wish to resume analyzing.”

“Fine.”

“Anything else I can do, Captain Rogers?”

“Yeah. Um. Privacy mode, I guess. I’m going to go to sleep soon.”

“Very well. Privacy mode engaged.”

Steve sat in the chair at the desk for a long, long time. For some odd reason he recalled something the nuns at the school he went to with Bucky used to say. On hot Brooklyn days they told the children to sit very still because it would keep you cool. It would slow the blood and you wouldn’t feel the sun’s heat as badly. It didn’t matter. Bucky and Steve’s blood always ran hot anyway. He thought, _perhaps if I stay very still, I’ll freeze again. Perhaps things will be better seventy years from now._ He tried to breathe as slowly as he could, thinking of his body cooling degree by degree as he stared ahead and saw nothing. 


	8. Chapter 8

Hours passed and Steve finally willed himself to stand up and go to bed. It had taken a large degree of mental willpower to bring the simple act to fruition. Imaging his mother saying not to waste a good bed when he had it was what finally spurred him on. He did not even have to change clothes, he could sleep in his jeans; he slept in worse during the war.

Steve stepped into his bedroom and froze. There was someone in the room, but he could barely see anything except for a dim shape, even with his heightened eyesight. Even blind though, it would be impossible not to feel the eyes boring holes into him, piercing through the darkness. The air itself was thick with the pained presence looking back at him. Steve’s eyes slowly adjusted to the light. Sitting in the chair in the dark was—

“Bucky!”

Steve’s heart hammered in his chest. With a great exhale he started taking the few steps to cross the room but was stopped by a flash of silver and black, and in an heartbeat he was pinned up against a wall. The metal arm was pressed across his chest. Steve, out of pure instinct, raised his hands to fight, but seeing the look in Bucky’s eyes, he let them drop back to his sides. Trying to steady his breathing, because one of them had to be the calm one here, he gave a small nod to the man holding him down. He thought about some way to reach the others. He turned Jarvis onto privacy mode. Jarvis should have noted another presence in the apartment, but Bucky had already circumvented the AI’s security measures easily. Steve was alone. This did not bother him as much as it should have.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s Steve. Do you remember?”

“I remember.” Steve’s breath caught in his throat until— “I think you’re my mission.”

“Are you here to kill me?” A light flickered in Bucky’s eyes at the suggestion and Steve felt his heart drop into his stomach. He could barely make his voice work. “W-would that help, Bucky?”

“The wires are crossed.” He took a step back, and released Steve, who did not move away from the wall, watching as Bucky walked randomly around the room. “I’m tangled. They’re tangled. _Bucky, shut up._ ” He hissed the last words, twisting over his shoulder as if talking to someone else. Steve chose not to mention it.

“The wires? The wires are tangled?”

“My brain.” He sat down on the chair again and put his head in his hands, fingers spasming; clenching and unclenching in pain.

Steve took a small step forward, very slowly. He took a breath but in an instant, a white flash of pain flared from his arm, and he was shoved back into the wall, head crashing into the solid plaster behind him, cracking it, a fine trickle of drywall dust tickling the back of his neck. He looked down in a daze and saw a thick gash open on his forearm. Steve grabbed at it, trying to apply pressure and cradled his arm to his chest. Bucky stood poised to attack again, knife in hand. 

“We can help, Bucky,” Steve whispered, trying to ignore the warm blood trickling through his fingers. “Let us help you.”

“The wires. The ways I’m supposed to be. They’re mixing. It’s all mixing.”

“We can—“ Steve tried to find the words. “Un-mix it. Untangle it.”

“It’s too fast.” Bucky sat back down on the chair, and started rocking back and forth. “Every time I breathe it’s a new wire. It’s the fuck-wire, and the kill-wire, and the Bucky-wire, and the skin and leave for dead-wire.” He clutched at his head. “There’s blood, there’s blood, there’s blood, there’s blood. _Bucky, stop screaming, stop screaming, we’re here. The mission, we’re here._ ”

Steve stared at the man on the chair. It was Bucky, and it was not Bucky. He remembered the way those hands ran through the dark brown hair, just like they were now. It was exactly the same, but so entirely different. All he wanted to do was hold him still – _Hold still, cool down your blood, send your suffering up to the Lord,_ said Sister Catherine in his head. Steve blinked, eyes bleary, arm stinging — embrace him, make it better. But the knife was still there, and Steve was sure that if he moved there would be more than a cut on his arm. He had not felt this helpless since the train, and Zola, and the fall. Bucky was screaming then too.

“Do I fuck you? Is that what I do? Will that shut him up?”

 _What?_ Steve closed his eyes for a moment, head thudding back on the wall behind him.

“We never—“ Steve felt his arm and realized the cut was not healing as it should. Blood was running down his hand faster now and dripping onto the carpet, hot against his bare feet. He was starting to feel the first vestiges of dizziness at the edges of his consciousness. Then the sudden thought of what Bucky asked; of him and Bucky doing _that_? That did not help keep his head from spinning.

“We never did that,” he finally got out.

 _But god, I wanted to,_ he thought to himself, unable to push the thought down like he usually could. _I loved you. I love you. I wanted—_ Bucky had not felt the same way back then, Steve was certain of it. He tried to process why that sort of thought would be passing through Bucky’s mind, but he could not hold onto the idea firmly. Why would he ask if they fucked? Steve groaned, nothing was making sense. _Besides you fuck Thor now._ He was having trouble holding onto any idea, actually. His arm was burning under his hand, and his fingers had started to go numb.

“Were we in love?” Bucky asked.

Steve felt his body pitching against gravity, from the question or something else he could not say. _Yes, yes. I loved you so much. I love you still. I loved you first and last._ He could not bend his elbow. He could not make a fist.

“Bucky, was there something on the knife?”

Bucky did not respond. Steve blinked a few times more, desperate to clear his head, and tried to hold himself up, but his eyelids started to feel heavy, so heavy. There was a sudden weight against his chest and Steve’s nostrils filled with the heady musk coming off of Bucky’s skin. There was a warm hand on his face, and Steve leaned into it without thinking. Then there was something sharp at his side. _The knife._ The tip was digging into his skin, poised to slide through his thin t-shirt, between his ribs, into his lung. Warm fingers ran through his hair at the side of his head, stubble grazed against his cheek, and hot breath tickled his ear.

“He wants this.” _Wants what?_

Steve’s arms were heavy, and he could feel the pull of gravity on his body. He would be sliding down the wall if Bucky were not holding him up. Steve felt Bucky turn his head and he was facing the assassin. In the dark Steve could just barely make out the blue eyes he knew from before.

“We have to do this. I have to do this.” _Do what?_

Steve felt himself nodding, as if Bucky’s words made sense, and then felt a pair of lips on his mouth. He had wanted this for years. He tried to lift his hands to cup Bucky’s face, but his arms would not cooperate as the poison from the knife coursed violently through his veins. His vision was getting darker on the edges. Thor’s lips had felt like lightning, electric crackling under his skin. Bucky’s lips felt like steam, like fire.

Bucky pulled back just barely, and with a sharp jolt the knife was embedded in Steve’s ribs. A puff of air left Steve’s lips traveling the fraction of an inch to Bucky’s mouth. It was just the faintest of gasps sounding from his lips. Steve heard it muffled through the thudding of blood pumping in his ears. Bucky kissed his mouth one more time, warm hand holding Steve’s head so carefully, as he pulled the knife out and jammed it in to Steve’s abdomen once more, lower this time. Bucky was so warm in front of him, body heat seeping through his harnesses and holsters and leather into Steve’s skin. All Steve could do was let out a soft grunt as the knife pierced his stomach. Tears fell from his eyes, and Bucky wiped them away with his thumb.

“Come on now, ain’t worth crying over,” he said, Brooklyn accent coming through. “Just a kiss.”

“Bucky…” Steve’s vision was blurring, from the tears, from the poison on the knife. Then Bucky leaned back and looked down at the knife in Steve’s gut. His eyes went wide, horrified. His face paled.

“Stevie. Oh god—”

“Buck, it’s okay.” The word tumbled out of Steve’s mouth, slurring and falling gracelessly from his lips. He thought he heard something outside the door, the lights getting brighter, but he could not make sense of anything. 

“Steven, I don’t mean to intrude, but we have to speak abo—“

Thor stepped into the bedroom, freezing at the sight before him, much in the same way Steve had froze when he first saw Bucky only minutes ago. Steve thought it might be the poison, but he felt the temperature in the room drop as he stared at Thor, who stared at him and Bucky. Bucky shifted away from Steve, and Steve felt the cold of the night air around him hit as Bucky left. The assassin turned and faced Thor, coiled tight like a snake about to strike, his knife, still red with Steve’s blood in his hand, reaching to his belt for another.

“Jarvis,” Thor said. “Inform the others. Bring them here.”

“No,” Steve whispered. “Bucky, run.” He could barely get the words out, and it was becoming harder and harder to breathe. His feet slipped out from under him and he slid down the wall and onto the floor with a heavy thud. The sound shook both Thor and Bucky from their places, and in an instant, Thor was on Bucky like a wild animal. Steve watched in a daze, as their fists blurred, and their grunts and the sound of flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting metal hit his ears from far, far away.  “Bucky, please run…”

Thor grabbed Bucky and pulled his face in close. There was a pause in the fighting. He thought he might have seen Bucky jump back from Thor and dart to the window, but he was not sure of anything anymore. There was crashing around him, voices, and then the world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's everyone's favorite assassin. Finally. That took what? eight chapters?


	9. Chapter 9

“Steve, bud, can you open your eyes?”

Steve heard Bruce’s voice from far away. His head rolled on his shoulders as he turned to the sound, fighting his eyelids to lift, even just a little.

“Good, that’s good, Steve. How are you feeling?”

Steve tried to think. _How was he feeling?_ He groaned as a wave of nausea hit him. As he rolled into himself a stab of pain shot through his body from his stomach so he stopped, forcing himself to relax on the bed. He was shivering, shaking, from pain and something else. He tried to put a name to it. It hurt. He just felt—

“Cold.”

“I’ll grab you some more blankets.”

Steve forced himself to focus, to keep his eyes open but it was so hard. He felt the weight of another blanket settle over his body, and even that almost felt like too much, and it was not making him warmer. He was remembering what happened, was vaguely aware of the wounds he had received, but he did not know what had happened to—

“Bucky?”

“He’s gone, Steve. Thor couldn’t stop him. Tony is trying to figure out how he got into the building without tripping into the alarms.”

“Hurt?”

“Yeah, you got hurt pretty bad. There was some chemicals on the knife he used. It stopped your body from healing properly, but me and a few other doctors got you all patched up at the hospital two nights ago. You’re back in the med-bay near the lab. You’ll be up and at ‘em in no time.”

That was not what Steve wanted to hear, not what he was asking, but he could not keep his eyes open.

“Go back to sleep. We’ll all be here when you wake up.”

_Black_.

* * *

 

“Hello Tony. How is he?”

“Hey there, lightning pants. He’s getting better. His vitals are improving. Stevie’s a tough cookie.” The sound of a magazine being closed and set on a table.

“Don’t call him—“ a sigh. “That is good. I’m glad to hear he is healing.”

“He’s not out of the woods though. There’s still traces of the poison in his system. Bruce is worried it might set off some sort of something, you know? We don’t know yet. What’s good though is that you showed up when you did. We might not have found him until the morning.”

“I simply wished to speak with him. It was mere chance that I was there at all.”

“Dumb luck.”

“Hmm. Aye.”

“What did you want to talk to him about?”

“What?”

“I asked, ‘what did you want to talk to him about?’ When you went to his room before you found him bleeding on my rugs?”

“Oh I—“ Thor took a breath, the sound was familiar in Steve’s ear, and he felt just a little bit warmer. “I cannot remember. Must not have been too vital.”

“I guess not.”

“I will leave you, Stark. Barton wanted me to tell you he might be late for his shift to watch Steven. He was stuck in traffic taking Sam Wilson back to the airport. He will bring you coffee.”

“A fair trade. See you.”

The sound of magazine pages fluttering.

_Black_. 

* * *

 

Steve woke in an earthquake. He was shaking violently. Muscles spasming in his body, and white-hot fire coursing through his veins. He heard screaming from far away as the sound tore itself from his throat.

“Steve, come on buddy, it’s okay. Thor, keep his head still.”

Warm hands pressed his shoulders down, a hand on his head.

“Steven, it is alright. You will be alright.”

A loud, deep voice yelled for the doctor to come. There was a stinging pinch at his neck, a flash of cool chemicals flooding into his muscles and veins. His muscles slowly eased and he fell back into the bed.

“Yeah, you’re okay man, just rest. Just breathe.”

“Christ, his heart-rate went through the roof.”

“It will be alright, Steven.”

_Black_.

* * *

 

“Stevie, wake up. Please wake up.”

Steve opened his eyes. The medical bay was dark. Only a few dim lights shone along the floor pointing towards the exit. He turned his head over and saw Bucky, sitting in a chair watching him. 

“Buck.” The word caught in his throat.

“Here. Water.”

Bucky gently tipped a plastic cup against Steve’s lips, and the cool drink eased its way down his throat.

“Bucky, you shouldn’t be here. The others—”

Bucky nodded over Steve and Steve turned to his other side and saw Clint sitting on a chair, fast asleep, light snores sounding out through his nose.

“He just needed to see you. I needed to see you.” Bucky looked even paler, skin almost blue and sickly with worry. “I know what I did this time. It was me, and it wasn’t me. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want—“

“Hey,” Steve breathed out. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

“Did it help?” _Did stabbing me help you?_ Even as he asked Steve knew how stupid he must sound. Still, if it did help then it was worth it.

“I think so.”

“So, it’s okay.”

“But what if it happens again?”

“Then it happens again.”

“What if I actually kill you next time?”

Steve did not know what to say to that. “We’ll worry about that when we get there.” They sat quietly for a moment. Steve waved his arm a little, and Bucky took his hand, cool metal and warm flesh wrapping around Steve’s fingers. Steve let out a soft sigh. He wanted Bucky’s real hand. The metal limb was like ice on his skin and Steve thought if he was not completely incapacitated he would pull off the offending, unyielding metal. He forced himself to ignore it.

“You know when I woke up? The first time, after the plane? They played a baseball game from 1941. Can you believe that, Buck? They thought I wouldn’t notice.”

“Well, you’re pretty stupid. You crashed a plane in the ocean.”

“Yeah, that was pretty dumb.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Because you died.”

Every time someone asked him that question, he said it was because it was the only way to save everyone, but that was never it. Not entirely. Bucky did not say anything. He looked at Steve, and Steve met his eyes, trying not to let his heavy eyelids drop once more.

“You died, Buck. And I couldn’t—” _I love you, I still love you. Be my best friend, again. Tease me as I panic about going on a date with Peggy. Clap me on the shoulder. Tell me I’m being stupid. I’ve been so fucking stupid. Touch my face again, kiss me again, kiss me._ “—I didn’t think I could do it. Keep going. Then they woke me up, and forced me to keep going. I miss you. Everything’s wrong here.” He choked, coughing on his words. Bucky gave him another sip of water.

“Hey, shhh. I think that’s the pain meds talking, Stevie.”

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat. That wasn’t it at all. They both knew it. “Yeah, yeah you must be right.” He looked up at the ceiling. He thought of Bucky falling off the train. _I should’ve jumped after you._ “I was afraid of heights, do you remember?”

“A little. Was it the church? The balcony? Got the dizzies and threw up on Sister Catherine?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

“Or just repressed it.” They chuckled softly. Steve felt Bucky’s metal thumb trace over his knuckles. “Whose the blond guy? The one who stopped… me? He said something to me. I can’t remember what though.”

“That’s Thor. He’s not from around here.”

“I might even like the guy if he hadn’t been trying to kill me.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. He was killing me because I was killing you. I might even have to thank the guy.”

“I slept with him.”

The room was quiet then. No one dared to even breathe. Steve could not look at Bucky, a flush rising on his cheeks. It was a relief to tell somebody, but it still felt like Bucky had a knife in his stomach and was twisting. The words kept ringing back in his ears. Admission of guilt, admission of something.

“Jesus. No kiddin?’” said Bucky, all Brooklyn now. Steve turned and saw that he looked concerned, his eyes shifting around not meeting Steve’s. And something else. Steve could not read Bucky’s face in the dim light. “I didn’t think you did that.”

“I don’t really.”

“I wish you had told me when we were kids.”

_What?_

Steve thought Bucky looked the same way he did when Steve spoke to him about Peggy, or he was trying to anyway; he made his face move the right way. Was he going to tease him about Thor now, the way he had teased him about Peggy then? Steve just wanted to put his hand on the man’s face, soothe away the knot in his brow, tell him things would be alright. _You can keep teasing me._ It was okay that he stabbed him. It was okay.

“Do- d’you like him?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been having a hard time liking anything these days.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I care.”

“That’s not the Stevie he knows.”

“You mean ‘I know?’ right?”

Steve did not want to mention the way Bucky spoke about himself as two separate entities. It just reminded Steve how broken Bucky really was. It was another twist of the knife, guilt wracking his body as he saw the shifting eyes, and the glances over the shoulder, as if there was someone else there. He couldn’t let it drop though. He thought back to his bedroom, Bucky telling ‘Bucky’ to stop screaming, and the very thought of Bucky screaming somewhere, invisible and scared made Steve want to scream too.

“I don’t know anymore. We’re two guys and we’re the same guy, Stevie. Bucky screams and the Soldier screams. It’s just a lot of screaming in here most of the time.” He tapped his temple with a cocky half-grin, before his smile fell once more. “And it hurts. It’s getting better, now that I’m not getting wiped, but it hurts. And he’s not quiet when you say you’re sleeping with the blond build like a brick shit-house. He’s not quiet when we talk about crashing planes into the ocean. He’s not quiet when I’m somewhere else. It’s quieter when I’m with you here. But I can’t stay with you because that’s how you die.”

Steve huffed out a small laugh, groaning as a flash of pain shot through his abdomen. He gave Bucky’s hand a weak squeeze, wondering if he could even feel it through the metal. “We’re in great shape, aren’t we?”

“It’s _fubar_ ”

“Yeah, _fubar bundy_.”

“Yeah ‘not dead yet.’” Bucky sighed. “I gotta go, Stevie. It’s the changing of the guard soon. The Widow will be watching over you next, and I’m still sore from fightin’ that other guy. What’s his name? Thor? The hell kinda name is that? Like the god right? From that kids book we had? The Thursday god?”

“Yeah Buck, like the Thursday god.” _You have no idea._

“Right.”

“You can stay. We can help.”

“I got some unfinished business. I just knew it’d be easier if I made sure you were okay. If he stopped screaming for a while.”

“Come back when you’re done?”

“I’ll try.”

“Please, Buck.”

He stood up and leaned over the bed, and pressed his lips to Steve’s. It was an easy, fluid movement. It was fire. Then, as quickly as he had kissed Steve, he pulled back with a jerk, and they both stared at each other in shock. Steve looked up at Bucky’s face and tried to catch his breath. The kiss had been so perfect, it felt so right. It was the easiest thing in the world, and Steve tried to lift his hand, grab Bucky once more and pull him back down. But in the space of a heartbeat Bucky went from his side, staring at Steve with bright, scared eyes, to disappearing into the night; a ghost once more. Smoke vanishing into the air.

Steve stared at the doorway for a long time, trying to force Bucky to come back with the power of his mind alone. He brought his fingers to his lips and just barely graced the skin. They were still warm, still humming from the kiss and that was all Steve had as proof that it had actually happened.

* * *

 

He jumped when there was a small cough from the other side of his bed. He turned and looked and saw Clint staring intently at him, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Cap. I think you should probably just go back to sleep. But full disclaimer, I was awake from the moment he came into the room.”

“So you heard everything?”

“Yeah, man. And I’m going to tell the others. You know I have to, right? About Barnes. Not about Thor. That’s your business, but that sounds like it needs to get talked about too.” Steve sighed with a nod, too tired to argue. Clint leaned over and looked at the IV’s in his wrist. “Alright, you good? You got your little pain-med clicker?” Steve shook his head and Clint poked around his bed trying to find it.

“Are you angry?” Steve asked.

“Nah, man. We’ll save that for when you’re not recovering from a misguided attempted suicide by proxy. Ah-ha!” he found the small remote and put it gently in Steve’s hand, wrapping cool fingers around Steve’s. “Go back to sleep.”

Steve clicked the button, and sank a little deeper into the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“Yeah, me too,” Clint replied. He patted Steve on the shoulder, and leaned back into his chair with a yawn. Steve watched him for a little bit longer, eyelids growing heavier until—

_Black_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Fubar' and 'fubar bundy' are both acronymic terms originating in WWII, the latter of which was used more by ambulance drivers and medical personnel. They stand for "fucked up beyond all recognition" and "fucked up beyond all recognition, but unfortunately not dead yet" respectively.


	10. Chapter 10

“Oh if my poor mama could see me now! She always wanted me to have a beautiful blond cooking her grandmother’s bolognese sauce for me, and here you are. She’d be so proud! Keep stirring, Steve.”

Steve snorted and kept stirring the sauce, as Bruce was grating cheese at the cutting board next to him. “Bruce, I think the wine is getting to you.”

“Hmm. I’m banking on it. You didn’t see the mountain of data Rhodes sent. I don’t do that kind of work. I’m a nuclear physicist. And then here come Tony and Rhodes acting like I know the first thing about jet propulsion data.”

“You do know about jet propulsion, Brucie,” Tony said from his seat at the counter.

Tony, Natasha and Thor were sitting on the raised barstools at the high kitchen island, watching on while Steve and Bruce cooked. Clint sat on the opposite counter, legs swinging over the floor, churning up the air by Steve’s legs. They had all decided to have dinner together to celebrate Steve finally being able to leave the med-bay and go back to his room. — _“No we’re celebrating Clint not shaving Steve bald when he cut his hair!”_ said Natasha. Clint replied, _“I’m first and foremost a performer! Haircutting and stage makeup are just a few of my myriad skills!”_ — Tony balked at the idea of actually cooking dinner instead of ordering out, but the others insisted. Bruce brought out a nice bottle of wine. Steve actually felt like laughing.They were all in pj’s and sweatpants. And it was nice.

“Okay, okay, yes, I do know some of the basics about jet propulsion. But you guys think that because I’m a scientist, I know all the science. Nuclear reactions and jet propulsion don’t mix.” — _“Or do they?”_ Tony cried out, getting swatted with a towel by Bruce _._ — “Including invasive surgery I might add. Just because I have a Ph.D, doesn’t mean I’m a doctor-doctor. I literally just relay information the other doctors tell me. I’m a physicist, not a doctor!”

“I’m a doctor, not an escalator!” Tony said.

“I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer!” said Clint.

“I’m a doctor, not a coal miner!” added Natasha.

The three of them and Bruce dissolved into a fit of laughter, and Steve and Thor were left glancing at them from outside the joke. Their eyes met, and Thor gave Steve a small smile before taking another sip of his wine, and Steve turned back to the range, stirring the sauce, and scraping the sides of the pot rather then try to smile back.

“Good, Steve. Get all the goop on the sides,” Bruce said, leaning over Steve with a cool, bracing hand on his back. 

“Sure thing, Bruce.”

And it was nice.

The others were laughing and joking, and the kitchen was warm. Steve’s body was almost starting to heal properly, though he was still a little weak, and the scars from the knife wounds were not going away. Bruce and the others insisted that he still sit on a tall stool as he stirred the sauce. They had not had ‘the talk,’ about what Clint had heard yet, and Steve was just waiting for it to drop. He suspected the others had all agreed to wait until some other time, because tonight was only light quips and silly stories. Everyone touched him, Steve noticed. A hand on the back, a clap on the shoulder. Clint ruffled his hair. Bruce put a bracing hand on his arm as he instructed Steve on the bolognese sauce. Nat had grabbed his chin — _“let me take a real look at that beard, Rogers,”_ — and had given him a small pat on the chest when she was done. Everyone was touching him except for Thor, who was maintaining a comfortable bubble around Steve. Steve was grateful for that, though he hoped the others would not notice.

A timer beeped, “Gah, someone drain the pasta!”

Clint hopped off the counter to help, reaching around Steve to the back burner as he put on a pair of floral-patterned oven mitts. Bruce was rummaging through the fridge looking for more parmesan.

“Save a little bit of the water!” Bruce said, muffled from the refrigerator.

“Roger!” Clint replied.

“What?” Steve asked with a grin.

Everyone laughed. And it was nice.

“Punk,” Clint chirped, ruffling his hand through Steve’s short hair once more.

They all moved to the table to eat. Pepper called to give her regards, apologizing for not being able to make it and to mention that there was good gelato in the freezer. Tony opened the next bottle of wine. Bruce started serving everyone as they passed their plates up, giving Steve and Thor extra-large helpings. Natasha broke pieces of thick bread for everyone. Clint started telling stories about his life as a circus performer, and Natasha pulled out her phone, and showed pictures she had snapped of old polaroid prints of Clint doing weird contortion tricks and of him standing on top of a galloping horse while shooting flaming arrows at a far off target. Tony asked Thor for the hundredth time if he could bring Mjölnir to the lab to do some tests, and Thor said for the hundredth time that it would not happen in a thousand years. Natasha grabbed Steve’s phone and they face-timed with Sam — _“A beard, Steve? I coulda stopped you if you told me, man! You look like a lumberjack!”_ — and Tony asked for the hundredth time if Sam was sure he did not want a new set of wings, and Sam said for the hundredth time that it would happen one day, but not to bother with it now. They all said hi to Sam’s sisters and mom. They planned what they would do when Sam finished resettling his mom and squared away his work with the VA and moved into the tower.

Bruce opened the freezer, and with a gasp saw that there was not only ‘good gelato’ in the freezer, but gourmet gelato, and he pulled out bowls and spoons and started serving everyone when they had finished their pasta.

And it was nice.

* * *

 

“So, Rhodes mentioned there was some possible Hydra activity over in Ohio of all places. Thought we might try another recon trip,” said Clint as they finished eating. They all leaned back on their chairs, sipping the remains of their wine. “Sounded easy enough.”

“Activity, or former activity?” Natasha asked.

“A little bit of both, I think. But again, small group. No more than thirty people at most.”

“That’s manageable,” Steve said, remembering having seen an Ohio address in his list of potential Hydra base. He was certain Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes’s intel was good though; the man’s only real pitfall was the friendship he had struck up with Tony. But once Steve had met him any misgivings on that account were done; the two friends were as different as night and day. “It might be worth checking out.” 

“Well, not you, Cap.” Clint said slowly. “You’re grounded… indefinitely.”

“What?” The others turned to look at Steve, and he felt a flush rise up on his cheeks. All of them were looking at him with that horrible _pity_ he hated so much. “Oh.”

“You know why, right? You’re not exactly fit for active duty.” Tony said.

“Neither physically nor mentally,” added Bruce, voice soft.

Steve thought about arguing, but could not bring himself to. He knew something like this would happen, and, if he was honest with himself, he was more upset that it happened during their dinner than he was that it was happening in the first place. He was almost relieved. “You know what? It’s fine. I kind of… don’t care.”

“That’s part of why we’re grounding you, you know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” They sat quietly for a moment. An awkward silence hanging over the table, and Steve wished that this conversation had happened tomorrow. His apathy was unsettling too. “Maybe I can keep an eye on things with Bruce, when you guys head out?” he tried. It felt like the right thing to say.

“Only if you want to. If you feel like it.” Natasha said.

Steve tried to smile and nod, but he really was not sure what he wanted. And he knew he did not feel anything. He played a bit with the spoon he left in his dessert bowl, tracing random lines through the melted gelato.

* * *

 

“We can talk about this tomorrow,” Bruce said at last, breaking the silence. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

The others murmured in agreement. Tony and Bruce offered to take care of the dishes, so Natasha, Clint, Thor and Steve walked towards the elevator, going in quietly. Steve leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. When Natasha and Clint got off on the same floor something in Steve tightened as he thought back to the last time he and Thor were in an elevator together, heading up to Thor’s room, where Steve was practically shaking with lust, near to vibrating out of his skin. _I felt something then_ , he thought.

The elevator stopped on Thor’s floor, and the other man started to leave, and suddenly the thought of being alone made Steve’s heart thud harshly in his chest, and he was pushing himself off the wall before he realized it.

“Thor,” he heard himself say.

Thor stopped and turned to face Steve. He stepped forward. They were suddenly close, chest to chest, and Steve could feel the warmth from Thor’s breath on his face, the warmth from Thor’s body bleeding through the air into his skin. His eyes were calculating, and Steve felt more naked under his gaze than he had when they had slept together weeks ago.

“Come to my room?” Steve asked softly, hating the way his voice broke over the words. 

At first, Thor did nothing. Steve did not dare breath. But finally, after an eon in the space of a few seconds he nodded; the elevator door closed behind him, and they traveled the few more floors to Steve’s room. Thor’s eyes never left Steve’s face, and Steve could not help but wet his lips with his tongue. He tried to keep his breathing steady, but looking up the few inches to Thor’s face was making it impossible. A flush rose on his cheeks as he recalled Thor’s mouth on his, Thor’s hands on his body, the heat from his skin warming Steve’s. He was so damn cold before.

They arrived on Steve’s floor, and finally Thor turned away and they walked out of the elevator. Steve had only left one light on when he had left, and now they only had the glow from the single orange lamp as they stood in Steve’s living room.

“Jarvis, turn on privacy mode.” Steve said.

“Of course, sir.”

Steve simultaneously not feel anything and felt everything. He was apathetic, and so cold. He knew this made Bucky scream, but he could not say why. That’s what Bucky had said when Steve had been lying on the bed then, but he thought he must have heard it wrong.He knew this could not be real love. He knew this would make things worse. He knew that he had to talk this out. He knew this was not right, for him or for Thor. But when he turned and finally pressed his lips to Thor’s and cupped the man’s face in his hand, beard scratching his palm, skin warming his skin, he finally felt something.

And it was nice.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Thor kissed him back and Steve moaned into his mouth. It felt like a flash of lightning after being in a storm at night, wind howling too fiercely to hear anything, darkness all-enveloping too black to see. Now he could see. He pulled Thor’s body closer to his, desperately bringing them flush together; the warm press of Thor’s body was sending waves of hot electricity through Steve’s skin. His hands skirted along Thor’s chest and sides, trying to feel every inch. He gasped as Thor bit his lower lip, and keened as the scratch of Thor’s beard tickled his neck. They were both breathing heavily as Thor pulled back, and slowly pressed his forehead on Steve’s, holding Steve’s head in his hands so carefully.

“Steven,” he whispered.

“Come on,” Steve replied, stopping Thor from saying anything else, pulling Thor backwards, towards his room. He pushed through the door, and almost dragged Thor to the bed, laying down and pulling Thor on top of him. Thor braced himself on his arms, bracketing Steve’s head on either side and on a knee near Steve’s hip, holding himself away from Steve’s body. He was not close enough. Steve arched up, trying to get some friction, trying to start kissing Thor again, but Thor was having none of it. He stared down at Steve until Steve let out a frustrated grunt. “Come on Thor, touch me. Come on.”

Thor looked down at him, and finally — _finally_ — ran a hand through his hair slowly. Steve leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. He did not want to see Thor’s eyes, afraid they would be marred with the same, gentle, patient pity he had seen before. The warm hand at the side of his face was bracing, and was bringing Steve back down to earth and that was the last thing he wanted. He leaned to the side, trying to take Thor’s thumb in his mouth. He pressed his hips up in a futile attempt once again to rub against Thor. Thor pinned him down, and Steve heard himself let out a low whine. _Desperate, you’re desperate._

“Thor, come on, are we doing this?”

Thor shut his eyes, still running his hand through Steve’s hair, and leaned up and placed a small, chaste kiss on Steve’s forehead. “No, we are not.”

“What?” Thor stepped back and Steve leaned up on his elbows, fighting with the urge to pull Thor back down on top of him.

“Take off your shirt. Lie back on the bed.”

Steve scrambled to pull off his shirt, getting tangled in his long sleeves. He gaped up at Thor as he removed his shirt also, standing comfortably in just a pair of loose pants. Thor pulled out his cell phone and set it on the nightstand. Steve gaped for a moment at it. Tony had bought all the Avengers merchandise for everyone, which included a Thor cell phone case, complete with little red cape. Thor liked it so much he kept it on. It was surreal to see it now. A jolt of cool air on his skin and Steve broke from his stupor. He moved to start taking off his own pants, but Thor stopped him with a warm hand on his.

“Just lie back on the bed.”

Steve slid up and lay down on the bed, practically vibrating with anticipation. He remembered this. Being told, _being ordered_ , to keep his hands above his head, clutching the pillow as Thor did obscene things to Steve with his mouth. Maybe Thor only did it this way, Steve thought, not really minding that at all. A very small voice in the back of his mind told him that that was probably because he was in his twenties and would take it any way he could get it. If he was lucky enough to have maddeningly intense sex, who was he to complain? He fisted the sheets at his side as Thor sat down next to him, the bed dipping under his weight. _This is it, this is it._

Thor touched Steve’s arm and ran a hand along it, soothing and calm from wrist to elbow, “Calm down,” he murmured. Steve forced himself to breathe, to relax his muscles, but it was almost impossible as he thought of what Thor might have planned for him.

Thor’s finger brushed along the pale white scar from Bucky’s cut on his forearm. It should have been gone by now but the chemicals from the knife kept his body from healing at its usual quick rate. On his stomach and rib there were scars as well, pink, red and white where the knife had gone in. Bruce, Tony and the doctors were sure the scars would fade eventually, because that’s what scars always did on Steve’s body, but it was a bit of a novelty to have scars at all. More than once Steve caught himself staring at the marks on his skin when he caught a glance of them in the mirror. More fascinating then bruises and lingering for far longer.

“Barnes cut you here first, yes?” Steve nodded, mute. He did not trust himself to speak. “Very well.”

Thor picked up Steve’s arm and kissed it, letting his lips linger over the scar. Steve stared at him, trying to make Thor meet his eyes with mental willpower alone. _What are you doing?_ Steve tried to move his hand, touch Thor’s face, pull him down to feel his skin against Steve’s. But Thor’s grip was firm, however gentle it might have seemed, and he held Steve’s arm still. He gave one more small, chaste kiss to the scar, beard scratching lightly against his skin, and lay his arm back down on the bed.

Thor’s fingers brushed along Steve’s ribs, making him twitch.

“Are you ticklish, Steve?” Thor asked with a smile. Steve blushed and turned away, rolling his eyes. He was ticklish as hell and the serum had only made it worse. Thor laughed softly. “You keep holding your breath. Let it out. Let your lungs do their work.”

Steve let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding in. It made his body relax a little more as Thor continued to thumb the scar on his ribs.

“And here? He stabbed you here?” Steve nodded. Thor bent down once more, and kissed the scar. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat. His lips were so soft, so chaste, so reverent. Steve tried to make it make sense. He tried to figure out where Thor was going with this; what Thor wanted from this. His lips lay still on Steve’s skin, and he breathed in Steve’s scent. Steve could not help it, he started shaking, even as Thor kissed the jagged, little, white mark once more. 

“And here,” Thor said as he slid his hand to the scar on Steve’s stomach. “What a mark,” he murmured. Steve was not even sure he heard it. This one was the worst.The knife had twisted when Bucky pulled it out to fight and the scar was just plain ugly; still red and angry in some places; a marred, indecipherable shape on his skin, a few inches above and to the left of his belly button. Steve stared at that one the longest when he saw it in the mirror, as Thor stared at it now, and gently stroked it, Steve shuddered on the bed, his breath catching in his throat; half-gasp, half-sob, entirely unbidden.

“Shhh. It is alright.”

“Stop,” Steve whispered. “Stop. Jesus, I thought we were gonna—“ Thor stopped moving his fingers along the scar, but left his hand on Steve’s stomach, the warm weight of it holding Steve down. Small shivers flashed through his body and Steve’s eyes met Thor’s. “I thought— we were— again—” _What are you doing?_

“That is not what you need.”

Steve looked away, clenching his jaw and tried not to roll his eyes. “I kind of think I do need it.” He pressed back down into the pillow, tempted to just get up and walk out, and tempted to pull Thor back down and push through his resolve; to make something happen, _anything_ happen. But Steve was not stupid. Nothing was happening tonight. The adrenaline, the electric charge of skin on skin was slowly fading, and he was crashing along with it, though his body was still spasming at the merest points of contact Thor made with his skin.

“What you need is to heal.”

“Superhuman, Thor. I’m Captain America. I heal just fine.”

Thor’s hand touched Steve’s face, turning him back to meet his eyes once more. “Captain America may be whole, may have healed months ago, but not so you. You, Steven, need to heal… _here_.” He lay a gentle kiss on the scar on Steve’s stomach.

“Here.” He leaned up, hand still cupping Steve’s face and pressed his lips to Steve’s forehead, and then on each of his eyelids.

“And here.” He bent down and put his mouth on Steve’s chest, right over his heart.

Steve did not mean to but he gasped, shutting his eyes as Thor’s lips still pressed gently into Steve’s chest.

“You have been hurt so much. You deserve so much better.” Thor then finally pressed his body to Steve’s, laying his arm protectively across Steve’s chest, pulling him into a warm embrace. Steve’s hand found Thor’s forearm, and he held it tight; the only thing anchoring him here. His heart was aching, screaming, and he did not know how to make it stop hurting. His breath still hitching, still catching, as Thor shushed him and pressed his face into Steve’s neck. “Shh. You are safe. You are loved. You can stop fighting.”

Steve gasped once more, his face feeling wet. He sputtered out a curse, and wiped his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, as Thor pulled him in even tighter, and kissed the corner of his eye. He felt foolish and exposed, but he could feel Thor everywhere and his mind slowly stopped churning. His body finally stopped shivering; warmed by Thor laying over him, shielding and lightning hot.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. You probably thought this chapter was going to be sex. I thought so too. We were both deceived. Whoopsie-effing-doodle.


	12. Chapter 12

“Is it true what you said?”

A rough voice spoke above Steve, accompanied by the click of the lamp on the nightstand. Steve opened his eyes, coming back from a dreamless sleep, blinking at the sudden light. He looked up from his pillow and saw Bucky standing at the side of the bed, gun drawn. It was not pointed at Steve but at Thor, who sat between them, hands raised half in surrender, half to shield Steve. The gun was at Thor’s forehead, but Thor did not seem to be afraid. Steve could do nothing but stare.

“Bucky! Bucky, what—” Steve began, panic rising in his throat, but Thor held up his hand and Steve fell silent, watching as the two men squared off. His only urge was to get between Thor and the gun, to hold Bucky’s hand, to stop this even if it took his life.

“It was,” Thor said, voice low. “It was all true.” Steve looked between them. He was almost lost to them, convinced he was invisible save for the large arm that Thor held out between Steve and Bucky.

“What if it’s from me?” Bucky asked. “What if I’m the one who—“

“I fought you off once, I would not hesitate to do it again. But it would grieve me to kill a good man, to cause such pain to Steven as well. Know that, Barnes.”

Bucky did not respond, nor did he put down the gun trained on Thor’s face, but his hand began to shake. Steve slowly sat up behind Thor.

“You’ll do it?” Bucky asked. “You’ll do it if you have to?”

“It will not come to that.”

“Answer me!” Bucky screamed. Steve flinched. They both tensed, ready to spring. 

“Yes! Yes. You have my word.”

Bucky was very still for a moment. Then his gun was holstered. Steve and Thor both exhaled in relief. The tension in Bucky’s body collapsed; limp, strings cut. “Thank you,” he said. “God, thank you.”

Then Bucky leaned in, fisted his metal hand through Thor’s hair, and pressed his lips to Thor’s, and Thor let out a small, surprised moan.

Bucky pulled back, eyes wide.

Thor stared at him, eyes wide.

Steve was fairly certain if he could see his own face his eyes would be wide too. “What just—“ 

Bucky ran from Thor’s side, dashing around the bed and nearly sprinting to the balcony, ready to jump out.

“Bucky wait,” Steve cried out. “It’s fine. It’s the wires. It’s fine. You’re okay.”

He held onto the doorframe, the sliding glass door to the balcony open; cold wind blowing in from outside, tossing his hair into his face. Steve felt a small shiver run through him. Bucky looked even paler. _How can he look even_ more _pale than before?_ Steve was fighting every muscle in his body to keep himself from jumping up and dragging the assassin back into the bed, holding him forever; holding him until they both dried up to ash and blew away in the starless night air. All that held him back was Thor’s hand, light on his arm, warm and steady and thick.

“Bucky, are doing you alright?” he finally asked _Are you eating? Have you slept? Is there still screaming?_

Bucky turned around from the door of the balcony. “You might hear about a gas explosion at a factory in Ukraine. It was Hydra. It was me. Tell the Widow. She will understand.”

“That’s not— are _you_ alright?”

He did not say anything. Thor and Steve stared at him from the bed. His metal hand gripped the doorframe strong enough to start bending the metal.

“It’s quieter—“ the way he said it sounded like a question. His brow furrowed. “You, you both — it’s quieter.”

Steve thought he understood. _Maybe_ , probably not. “If you want to stay, you can. If it’ll help?” He was grasping at straws he knew, but still he had to ask. “Please. Stay.”

“Not yet. I’ve got—“

“Unfinished business?”

Bucky nodded.

“We have word of the Hydra in _Oh-hio_?” Thor frowned around the word as he spoke. “We will be taking it soon, removing whatever threat we find.”

“That’s munitions storage mostly. And a safe-house for loose Hydra agents. It would be good for it to be gone.”

“But it is not the beast you are hunting?”

Bucky met Thor’s eyes and shook his head. He looked at Steve and Thor for a while longer, simply staring, studying them as they sat on the bed. Then he was gone. Out the door and into the night.

* * *

 

Thor let out a deep breath. The two of them stared at the door to the balcony for a little while longer before Thor finally patted Steve on the leg through the blanket, and fell back down on the bed, stretching his arms over his head with a sigh, brow furrowed. Steve held his head in his hands, leaning on his knees for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. He felt Thor put a hand on his back, and he tried to relax once more, melting a little into the warm touch; tried to steady his heartbeat.

“You did what you could.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.” _It never feels like enough._

“That is because you love him and you worry about him.” Thor, as always, made it sound so simple.

“Are _you_ okay?” Steve asked, finally looking down at him.

“Yes, I believe I am.” He looked surprisingly calm for someone who just had a gun pointed at their head.

“You look confused.”

“The night went in a direction I did not anticipate.” He smiled up at Steve. “But I am not complaining. Two good men have kissed me in the span of just a few hours without aid from mead or wine. Worse turns have happened in my time.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, desperate and breathy. Thor ran his hand along Steve’s back, warm, steady and bracing. The tension was broken, and Steve felt a clench in his abdomen release. Bucky was alive still and blowing up Hydra bases in the Ukraine, Bucky had not killed Thor. In another world he would have laughed that these were the things that Steve cared about. He had always cared about Bucky, but in this context, in this light it was—

“I believe he is still confused though.”

Steve started laughing in earnest, unable to hold it back. It was a hysterical outburst, an opening of the floodgates. He ran his hands through his hair. He was giddy with relief. “Really? You think?” Steve met Thor’s eye, and saw a glimmer of mischief, and snorted. “I can’t believe he kissed you.”

“I am certain he did not believe it either. Worry not. I am used to such a reaction.” Steve snorted once more before laying down next to him.

“Yeah, I bet you tore a swath through Asgard.”

“I did my part.”

“Hmm. Bucky was a real ladies’ man too, back in the day.”

“I could tell.” Steve cocked an eyebrow at Thor. “That was not a kiss of gratitude, Steven. Were the situation less dire, and I less stalwart of character, the night might have taken a more devilish turn.”

“With me right here?”

“Laid on the bed, forgotten and forced to watch as we had our way with each other.” He quirked his eyebrow. “Though we probably would invite you to join us.”

Steve’s stomach lurched at the idea at the three of them together, and he could not help but gape at Thor, a warmth pooling in his core. His breath was caught in his throat; he could already feel the deep blush rising on his face; his blood was rushing— “That’s… _wow_.”

“I apologize. That was crass.”

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s just— that’s some image.”

Thor leaned up on his elbow and looked down at Steve. “Is it a good image?”

Steve tried to maintain serious eye contact with the man, but it was proving difficult. “It’s not too bad,” he squeaked out. Steve could not help it; he was, after all, only twenty-six. He forced himself to tamp down the churning in his abdomen but knew the thought of the three of them together would crop up again when he was alone.

Thor laughed, and ran a hand through Steve’s hair. Steve chuckled along with him. “It is good to see you smile. It is good to jest with you. I would have you always this lighthearted.” Steve smiled. That made sense, in a far off way. He blinked, lost in vague thought, and then yawned, remembering that it was still the middle of the night. Thor settled back down next to him, pulling the covers of the bed over them, and they lay side by side staring up at the ceiling. “Rest, friend. It is late.”

Steve felt his eyes closing. His body was relaxing; from the warmth of the bed, from seeing Bucky, from Thor’s deep rumble of a laugh. Something stopped him from falling back into the embrace of sleep.

“What did you promise to Bucky?”

“Pardon?”

“You said ‘I give you my word’ to Bucky. What was that about?”

“I—“

“He didn’t come to see me,” Steve realized, almost hurt, but mostly just confused, just curious. “He came to hear that promise.”

“It would not do to say. In fact it is a promise I fear I may not be able to keep in any event. I dread that I may ever have to do it.”

“What is it?”

“That I would protect you. That, should Barnes lose control, I would protect you from him,” Thor said at last, turning to face Steve. “By whatever means necessary.”

“He thinks you’re going to have to kill him?”

“I would not let it come to that. Ever. Do you believe me?”

Steve looked into Thor’s eyes. His brow was creased in worry, but his blue eyes were hard to read. Steve wondered how he got here. Recently almost murdered by his best friend for the second time, grounded from fighting the bad guys which was really the only reason he was here existing at all, and now in bed with a Norse god, trying to decide if Steve trusted him not to kill the mind-broke assassin that might at any moment crack and kill him. _Do you believe him?_

“Yeah,” Steve said at last. “I do.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter beautiful because even the person paying the least amount attention can tell where I could have just turned this into a straight porno and finished the story at that, but then chickened out and decided that no, I really want to hit 100K words with this stupid thing.


	13. Chapter 13

“Agent Hill, Steve’s joining me up top for this mission,” Bruce said. They sat in the leather office chairs around the glass table of the conference room, sipping coffee and eating pretzels.

“Makes sense, gaping stab wounds tend to take it outta you.” Hill replied via speaker phone.

Steve looked over to Bruce. He was grounded, not allowed to join the fight with the Avengers. _‘Potential self destructive tendencies_ ’ was the official reason. Steve assumed they sent a report or memo at least to Fury if not Hill, but they clearly had not told either of them. Furthermore there was no denying that Fury would inform Hill immediately anyway, so it was clear both were out of the loop. Bruce nodded warmly at Steve, gesturing him to to respond.

“Yeah,” Steve said at last. “Just having a hard time shaking it. And this is a small op. I can sit it out.”

“Well, you’re not as young as you once were,” Hill said. Steve snorted, trying not to roll his eyes. “So, Doctor Banner, I looked at the mission brief you sent over, and this seems like a real easy in and out.”

“Just wanted you on standby. Never know what’s going on. Especially in Ohio.”

“Yeah, that place is a real pit of despair.”

“Call you if we need you?”

“Of course, Doctor. Hill out.”

The line went dead and Bruce sat back in the swiveling chair in the conference room. The two of them sat watching the monitor for a moment. Jarvis had a display hologram pinpointing where the quinjet was as it made its way steadily towards the Hydra munitions base.

“You’ve never been in here during an op, have you?” Bruce asked at last. “It’s nice. It’s kind of like playing a video game. Have you read “Ender’s Game?” Same kind of concept, I suppose. Though, pretty grim when you think about it. But still, good book. Not a big fan of the author, but what can you do?” He shrugged.

“You guys didn’t tell Fury and Hill about me? About why I’m here and not out there with the others?”

“Not much to tell. You’re out of the game for a while because you got stabbed. Besides, Tony thinks it serves them right. We keep secrets from them but only because they kept secrets from us. Playground rules, you know. That’s kinda how he operates. If we thought they needed to know they would, but this gives Tony the giddies, so we’ll let it slide. I agree with him by the way, which, you know, don’t tell him that; it’ll go to his head. People forget because I’m so mild-mannered, but I have no qualms about running from the law and keeping secrets from authority figures. They picked me up hiding out in Calcutta. This, what you’re going through, it’s nothing.”

“I’m out of the game because I let my assassin best friend stab me because I thought him killing me would help him.”

“Too many words. Why do Hill and Fury need to know that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve said at last.

“We can tell them, if you’d prefer.”

“No. I’m kind of glad you didn’t. It’s—“ Steve could not say what _it_ was.

“Steve, my experience is that life is too damned hard even without magic powers, superheroes, gods, assassins. I think all of us are kind of at the point where we think that way. You’ve been screwed over just as much, if not more, than all of us. We get it. And because we get it, we’re gonna take care of you. Life’s too… too short not to. Even for a guy like you.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You’ve got this time on your hands now. You gotta take it to heal. That’s how you thank us. Am I making sense? We all want you to get better, to start thinking straight again. To figure your shit out. Pardon my French.”

“I don’t even know what shit I even have to figure out. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“And that’s why you’re up here with me. Don’t need you thinking about that kind of crap when you’re trying to shoot Hydra, now do we?”

“I guess not.” Steve sighed. “Do I to talk it through with you? Like a psychiatrist?”

“You can talk to me like a friend. I’m not qualified for much else. Though, anger management tricks I’ve got plenty of. Have all the books. But I think you really should be going to therapy if I’m being brutally honest.”

“I don’t need therapy.”

Bruce shot him a withering look; one that Steve had seen used on Tony on multiple occasions, but never really appreciated until it was pointed directly at him. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Listen, it might not matter how you work through your issues, Steve. Just as long as you work through them, and you work through them safely. No more jumping off buildings and getting stabbed. The rest is up to you.”

The radio connection from the quinjet crackled on and Natasha’s voice sounded out into the conference room. “Hey guys. We’re about to make contact.”

Bruce pressed a few buttons on the table, and the hologram shifted from a simple map to a hybrid of state-lines, roads, highways and the actual earth in real time. The Hydra base in question was quiet, looking abandoned. Steve saw the quinjet land about a mile away from it in a clearing. Small blobs set out, Tony’s Iron Man suit flying up and over to do reconnaissance, a flash of Thor’s red cape and Natasha’s red hair.

“You’re still looking good from my end. Just waiting to see what Tony’s sensors bring up, but the base has been pretty quiet. Unless there’s some different underground entrance we don’t know about, no one’s been going in or out.”

The others sounded out confirmations, quick quips and status updates as the op played out. Steve sat and watched. There was not much he could do. Bruce had a handle on everything, Steve really did not need to be there. He thought about what Bruce said; figuring his issues out.

What even were his issues?

He missed Bucky, wanted Bucky safe, wanted Bucky to be Bucky again. Those were issues.

He found himself sleeping with Thor twice now. Well, sleeping with him twice, but _sleeping_ with him just the one time. That was an issue, but it wasn’t necessarily bad.

He kept jumping off high places. He was reckless. That did not feel like as much of an issue as the others thought it was. It’s not like he wouldn’t heal from it. It needed to be done.

He let Bucky stab him. That was bad, but not an issue. Bucky needed that. _Right?_

He sighed and leaned in against the table, watching the holographic display, which was interspersed with updates from each of the Avengers through their communications link.

Thor suddenly cried out in pain, and Steve jumped up to his feet, while Bruce opened up a communications channel.

“Thor? What was that?” Bruce asked.

“T’was nothing,” he grunted. “Merely a robot with a strong swing.” A loud crash sounded. “I have felled it.”

“You sure you’re alright?” said Steve.

“Aye. My pride is hurt more than my body.”

Steve let out a shaky breath.

The rest of the op passed with little incident — _“Hey guys, does this shiny orb look like that other shiny orb we had to get for Hill to you? Or is it just me?”_ Clint asked at one point. They informed Hill and brought the small back to the tower to ship off to her — and Steve found himself sitting restless as he watched them trail back into the quinjet slowly. 

An hour passed, probably closer to just forty minutes really, when the rumble of the quinjet sounded above them landing on the launchpad of the roof. Steve took the elevator up with Bruce, and met the others as they stepped off the plane. Tony’s suit was already dismantling itself, Clint and Natasha were checking their guns and walking over to one of the storage lockers to store them and Thor— Thor limped off the ramp, hand held close to his side, Mjölnir hanging off his wrist. Steve saw no blood, but the Asgardian was walking gingerly.

“Thor?” Steve asked.

“I am alright. Truly. A broken rib, perhaps, at worst.”

Steve blinked. “Is this how you all feel when I say I’m fine?” he asked at last.

Thor snorted, then winced as his rib was jostled. “I imagine so.”

“Can I help?”

“Get me to my quarters, and I’ll be forever grateful.”

“I can do that,” Steve said. He pulled Thor’s free arm over his shoulder and they walked to the elevator.

“I’ll give you a cookie for your troubles.”

“What?”

“Apologies; it is something that the Lady Darcy sometimes says.” His brow furrowed. “Of all the damned mannerisms of this realm to acquire…”

Steve snorted as he pressed the button summoning the elevator, and they stepped in, leaning heavily on each other and the back wall as they were brought down to Thor’s floor. Thor’s warm body pressed into Steve’s and Steve for once did not think of the nights they had spent together. He thought instead that this was easy. He thought doing this helped him forget that he even had issues that needed working out in the first place. He was helping.

They stumbled into Thor’s apartment and bedroom, and Thor sat on the bed working off the armor and braces from his arms. Steve went through his drawers and pulled out a pair of pants and shirt.

“Oh by the Norns,” Thor groaned. “If you promise not to tell anyone, I’m going to do a little Asgardian trick.”

“What?”

But Thor did not respond. Instead he closed his eyes. After a moment, his armor started to shimmer, and the clothes Steve was holding out for him grew warm. In a moment after a small flash of gold light, the armor was in Steve’s hands, and Thor was wearing the loose pants and shirt. He flopped back on the bed with another groan.

“You could do magic all this time and you didn’t tell us?”

“I cannot do magic. I merely know how to change my clothes. And I can make my hands warm if I need to. I’m not nearly as proficient as Lo— as some practitioners.” Thor turned away for a moment at the memory of his brother. Steve did not know what to say, so they hovered in awkward silence for a moment before Thor spoke up again. “Let me provide you cookies. Help me up.”

“You should get your rib wrapped,” Steve said, reaching over to help Thor up.

“Indeed I should. Perhaps one day I will.”

They hobbled into the kitchen where Thor pulled out a pink bakery box of cookies from a cabinet. Steve made him sit down on the stool by the counter while he poured them both a glass of milk. He sat next to Thor on the other stool and they sat quietly eating the cookies.

“These are good,” Steve said at last.

“I’m glad you like them.”

Steve looked over and saw that Thor looked as tired as Steve felt. After a moment he scooted his stool over a few inches and pressed his shoulder into Thor’s. With a sigh Thor leaned into Steve. It was warm, it was simple, there were no issues. They stayed like that in calm, companionable silence for a long time, finishing the cookies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have nothing against Ohio. IDK, maybe Maria Hill does.


	14. Chapter 14

Steve found Thor one day in the training room in the gym. He stood in the shadows of doorway as Thor took one of Tony’s new prototypes in hand. Thor was shirtless, which was something the artist in Steve could appreciate. At least that was what he told himself as he watched.

The prototypes were essentially a series of laser swords — _“Lightsabers! Stevie! Lightsabers! Do you understand how important this is? I don’t even care about selling it. I’m just gonna give them to anyone who wants them next Comic-con!”_ Tony had told Steve, shaking him by the shoulders after three days of not coming out of the lab. Bruce then said _“No you’re not.”_ and walked him to the elevator and up to his apartment — and looked like fun, but had no real-world application.

Steve had no real interest in the swords except for how to turn them on and off, but all the others had taken turns with them. Clint started breathing weirdly when the one he grabbed turned red, and started play acting with Natasha. Jarvis set up a moving target program, as well as a sparring robot. Natasha and Clint were both quick to hack away gracefully at the moving targets, or swat away small beams of light shot at them, but Thor opted for the sparring bot. He and the robot were surprisingly well matched — Tony apparently had set Jarvis to monitoring their fighting styles and set up comparable algorithms in the robot. It could switch between different styles and fighters; Thor laughed as it proved to be more challenging than he anticipated as it went from matching Thor’s style to Natasha’s to Steve’s.

But that was yesterday. Thor was not laughing now. He stood alone with the sparing robot. His shoulders were tense.

“Jarvis,” Thor called out, eyes dark, voice dark, mood dark.

“How may I be of service, sir?”

“Stark has programmed these challengers to fight many ways, yes?”

“That is correct?”

“Can they fight like anyone, or are there limits?”

“Anyone that Mr. Stark or any standard news outlet has filmed fighting. Did you have someone particular in mind?”

“I wish to fight a challenger in the style of my brother, Loki.”

_Oh._

“Accessing database.”

“Make it so I feel any blow I receive, yes Jarvis?” He requested as he swung the sword around in his hand, testing the weight, squaring up to the sparing robot.

_Oh no._

“Very good, sir. Program initiated.”

Steve watched as the sparing robot stood at the ready, a sword in one hand, a knife in the other. That was new. When the group had been fighting it, it had only the one weapon. Thor and the robot circled each other, catlike, patient. It jerked forward in a feint that Steve could almost recognize, but Thor did not rise to the bluff, instead keeping a steady pace, walking the perimeter of the sparing mat in time with the robot. There was something uncanny about the robot imitating Loki, it left Steve feeling unsettled as he watched them each take careful, precise steps.

At once, they swung at each other. Steve could not tell who initiated it, only that one second they were apart, and the next they were at each other’s throats. Thor used his one weapon to dodge, parry and counter against the robot’s two. Over his head, and behind his back, spinning and twisting. Steve had never actually seen Thor fight like that before. When he had the hammer it was all heavy swings, throwing his weight behind each one, but now he was focused and precise. And fast. Steve had never seen him move that fast.

Then suddenly the robot had an opening, and the small faux-knife zapped Thor in the side, sending him crashing onto one knee with a shout. The robot pulled back and waited for Thor to start again. Thor rose to his feet and Steve saw that on his rib there was a small black mark — a scorched burn — where the robot had hit him.

Thor spun the sword around in his hand. “Again,” he called out.

They started up once more, fighting fiercely until once again the robot made a move that brought Thor to a halt. Again, and again. Soon, there were small black burns scattered across his body. All the while Thor grew less focused, less careful. His moves were becoming more and more erratic as the robot beat him again and again, less time between each bout as Thor tired and the robot endured.

“Again,” he called out; he shouted, angry and feral.

“No, Jarvis, that’s enough.” Steve finally stepped into the sparring room, as the robot powered down and rolled back to its charging station.

“Steven,” Thor acknowledged, catching his breath. He did not meet Steve’s eye. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough.”

“I was merely testing Stark’s sword, though I am loathe to call it such a thing.”

Steve tried to lighten the mood. “Well, if it walks like a sword and talks like a sword—”

“This is no sword, Steven.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Thor sighed. “No. Do not apologize. I am merely—“ he stopped himself with a huff, tossing the electric sword down on the ground, and pulling his hair, wild and messy from the fighting, out from its hair-tie. He ran his fingers through his hair and tied it back up again more tightly.

“Do you need to get those checked out?” Steve said, nodding at the black scorch marks along his chest.

“They will keep. They will heal.”

“Do they hurt?”

“It matters not.”

Steve sighed. “I heard what you had Jarvis do. Making the robot fight like Loki.”

“Loki is accomplished in the art of fighting. Was. Was accomplished.” Steve did not say anything. “It would not do to let my skills fall to the wayside, and I could not think of a better partner.”

“Is that all?”

“Hmm. You mean to psychoanalyze me, Steven?” Steve blinked. “What? Did I say it wrong? The word is new to me.”

“No, it— it’s just strange hearing it come from you.”

“I suppose it would be”

They fell back into silence. Steve realized he was staring at the marks on Thor’s chest; he was staring at Thor’s chest, broad and muscled, and swallowed without thinking, wet his lips quickly without thinking. Thor caught his eye and Steve turned away, fighting off a blush. He heard Thor chuckle as he stretched his arms across his body and walked towards the bench for his shirt. “We slept together Steven. I imagine it would not have happened if we did not find each other at least a little pleasing on the eye. You’re allowed to look.”

“That night—“ the words were out of Steve’s mouth before he could think.

“Yes?”

“Why did you—“ Steve finally looked back up at Thor. “Why did you sleep with me?”

“Because you were alone. And you needed comfort.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No, but at least some of my reasons are my own. Can you give me that?”

“Yeah, I suppose. It just—“

“Just what?”

“Why would you—“

“Why would I what?”

“Nah, never mind,” Steve said. “It’s not important.”

“Very well.” Thor nodded, looking at Steve curiously, a little more ragged around the edges than usual. Maybe it was the light, but it looked like his skin was darker under his eyes. And that bothered Steve. He _liked_ Thor well enough. They were good together in the field, and had gotten along well before they had slept together. A pull deep inside him told Steve to at least try and help.

“I am finished here, I will take my leave of you.” Thor said, starting to walk toward the door and past Steve. 

Steve grabbed his arm as he stepped by before thinking. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be alone right now?” Steve tried slowly. _“You would have to throw me from this ledge for me to leave you at a time like this, Captain.”_ Steve recalled Thor saying that to him, _that night_. It had infuriated him then, but looking at Thor now, Steve could see the taller man’s face relax infinitesimally. He cocked an eyebrow at Steve. “I mean—“ Steve went on. “I can’t— not like before. Not like that night.”

Thor nodded with a soft smile. “I understand.”

“But we could—“ he shrugged, “Eat something, maybe?”

“Aye. I could eat.”

* * *

A while later they were on the couch in Steve’s living room, eating Thai food out of to-go boxes. They talked lightly about anything and everything. It was easier than talking to the others could be, except maybe Natasha, or possibly Sam, but Sam was still out of town. Clint and Tony were so prone to dropping pop culture references it was like they were speaking in code. What’s worse, Clint was a football fan, and Steve was still firmly ensconced in camp baseball. They’d talk sports, but it would quickly devolve into which game was better, and neither would let the other win. Bruce and Steve would chat, but they had very little in common so unless they had a topic, their conversations left Steve feeling like he was boring the other man. Put him together with Tony and Steve was sure they were not even speaking English with the way the science jargon flew over his head.

Thor’s frame of reference of the world they were in now was even smaller than Steve’s. Thor asked Steve about some of the things Tony or Pepper had said, and Steve would try to explain it. Steve would ask if Thor knew anything about something Natasha or Clint mentioned, and he would reply with a vague understanding passed to him from his time with Jane.

It was easy like this. Steve could laugh with Thor alone like this. Thor would smile back and not look nearly so tired.

They finally fell silent, food finished and cardboard containers sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Thor’s body was warm next to Steve. He relaxed a little, sinking into the couch and just minutely closer to Thor.

“What happened?” Steve whispered. “With the sparring robot— you were—“

Thor sighed, running a hand down his face. “I was acting foolish, acting angry. I should not have pushed myself thus.”

“Angry about what?”

“Many things. Small things under the skin. It is just—“

“Just what?”

Thor turned and met Steve’s eye, before looking down at his hands in his lap.

“It has been a year.” He let out a low breath. “Since Loki. Since my mother.”

“Oh.” Steve tried not to wince. He could not come up with anything more intelligent than _oh._ “I’m sorry.”

“As am I. It— it was foolish. I did not realize the time had passed until I read an email from Jane, saying such. Years on Asgard do not pass the same way as they do here. But the idea of it; a year. It feels as though it happened just a moment before now, a breath really. A heartbeat.”

Steve knew a little bit about that. “I crashed the plane into the water a few days after Bucky died. I woke up 70 years later. And it feels like that. It still feels like that. It’s been a heartbeat.”

“Aye.”

Thor rested his hand on Steve’s thigh and they sat quietly once more. Steve moved closer into Thor’s shoulder still. It was warm, and they were not alone.


	15. Chapter 15

Some nights Steve found himself in Thor’s apartment, and other nights he had Thor in his. He was with Thor because it was quiet. That made no sense with anything everyone knew about Thor, but there it was. Maybe it was the company or the late hour, but when Steve and he were alone, they spoke softly, and were comfortably silent, peacefully quiet as often as they were not.

Some nights Steve stayed alone. Some nights he could be alone the whole night through, and wake in the morning feeling almost human.

Some nights he couldn’t. He crawled into Thor’s bed once; Thor easily slid over to make room, used to such nightly intrusions. Thor had wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders unbidden but not unwelcome.

“Are you alright?” Thor had asked.

“My apartment was too quiet.”

“My apartment will be quiet too.”

“That’s fine. It— it was the wrong kind of quiet.”

Steve felt Thor nod above him, and slowly sank to sleep, the silence warm and safe.

_Inhale._

* * *

 Steve finally shaved off his beard. It was a struggle with the newfangled electric razor that Tony or Pepper had put in his bathroom. He could have sworn he had a straight razor, but must have misplaced it. The electric one was great for maintaining what he had, but as he tried to get rid of the beard properly he found it took ages, mowing down layer after layer of fur. It powdered his sink, dark and clumpy. When he was finished, he turned on the faucet, wincing as he swept the hairs down the drain with his hand.

He looked at himself in the mirror. _Will Bucky recognize me now?_

_Exhale._

* * *

 “No, sorry. I’m vetoing that movie tonight.”

“You pulling rank?” Clint asked. “On movie nights? Of all nights!”

“Yeah, sorry. We’re not watching Titanic. Or I’m not. I will leave, and I’ll take the pizza with me.”

“Aw! Why not?”

“Because I’m an Irish New Yorker born only a few years after it sank. People died. My mom knew people who died on that ship or barely made it to the lifeboats when they were just trying to come into this country. I’ve seen that stupid movie, and I’m not watching it again.”

“Oh come on! It’s a good movie.”

“Clint, let me look you right in the eye when I say this; Titanic is not a good movie. Titanic is melodramatic hogwash.”

Natasha snorted, and fiddled with the remote, browsing the other movies in Tony’s library. She flicked into the children’s section and eventually found what she was looking for.

“Lilo and Stitch?” Steve asked.

“It’s good,” Natasha said. “You’ll like the artwork. Gorgeous watercolors.”

“It’s about an orphan who befriends an alien in the great state of Hawaii,” Tony added, walking in with beers in hand, Thor and Pepper behind him holding boxes of pizza. “Kinda like all of us and Thor.”

“Sorry, don’t you mean _Territory_ of Hawaii?”

Everyone stared at Steve, including Thor. “Oh my god,” Clint whispered. “Did no one tell you?”

“I thought you were doing research, Rogers,” said Natasha. “About all the stuff you missed? What happened?”

“I missed a lot, and then took down a corrupt government agency! I’ve been busy! Hawaii is a state now?”

“Oh my god.”

_Inhale._

* * *

 “Thor, get out of that building, it’s not stable!” Bruce shouted into the microphone.

“There are still people here!”

“Thor!”

Steve’s hands were motionless on top of the conference table; still and steady and he hated it. He watched helplessly as the building collapsed on the satellite image. He could not hear anything, his blood was thrumming in his ears, buzzing like static, whooshing around his head like icy saltwater.“Thor?” Bruce asked.

Steve’s heart beat once, twice, three times when—

“Aye. We are here. Unharmed. Stark will have to dig us out, I fear.”

“That’s fine, Thor. Glad to hear it,” Bruce replied.

_Exhale._

* * *

 “Right, thanks for telling me, Sharon.” Steve hung up his cell phone, and leaned back against the wall, after a moment he slid down to the floor. It was fine. It was good news. It was fine. She was fine. She’d be fine.

“Steven, what is it? What’s wrong?”

“Peggy, she was sick. She’s gonna pull through but— Christ— _shit._ ” He put his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing.

Thor did not say anything, he knelt down and sat next to Steve against the wall, a warm, bracing presence next to him. Steve had no idea how long they sat in silence.

_Inhale._

* * *

 “‘The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’?” Steve read off the newspaper headline.

“He fights for the innocent, it says. That is a noble thing.”

“He shouldn’t have to be fighting at all.”

“Neither should we.”

“Maybe we should recruit him.”

_Exhale._

* * *

 “Natasha, I was wondering—“

“No, I haven’t heard anything. Barnes is still in the wind.”

“Oh. Okay. Um. Right, thanks.”

_Inhale._

* * *

 Thor’s bed was warm. They tangled legs, but did little else. Steve thought that maybe Thor wanted more, maybe Steve himself wanted more sometimes, but when they were together it did not feel like they needed it. _“I can wait,”_ Steve thought he heard Thor murmur in his sleep one night. Maybe he dreamed it, maybe not. He wondered for hours if that had been about him, guilty and agonizing before Thor had flopped a heavy arm over Steve’s chest and pulled him back down into the peaceful chasm of sleep.

But now Thor stroked the scar on Steve’s stomach, pushing his shirt up just enough to see the fading pink and white mark on his skin. Like every other part of him, Thor’s thumb was warm.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Steve said.

“I know. We often do dangerous things when we’re scared. Even worse things when we are scared and confused.”

“He’s not scared.” _Bucky wasn’t afraid of anything._

“Steven, I have seen the files on your friend. I have met him. He has been a prisoner of the Hydra and a prisoner in his own mind for seventy years; forced into torturing, killing, committing nameless, horrible acts without being able to stop himself, without hope. I can assure you he is terrified.”

Steve did not say anything. Thor’s bed was warm.

“I would have thought this mark would be healed by now. You usually do not bear wounds this long.”

“There was something on the knife he used. Making it heal slower than normal”.

“Ah well. Scars are good. They keep us humble.”

“Am I too arrogant for you?” Steve cracked with a smile.

“Hardly. Perhaps that is why I am drawn to you. I was much more arrogant in my youth. Even the largest scars did not keep me humble. But now it is the invisible ones that do.”

Steve did not say anything, once more. The idea of Thor’s invisible scars made something in his chest tight. He thought for a moment longer.

“Wait, do you have any scars? I didn’t notice any when we—“ he stopped himself. He still could not bring himself to give words to what had happened during their night together. Not out loud at any rate.

“Aye. I have a great wound on my leg from a _snipejakten_ of my father’s court.”

“ _Snipejackten?_ ”

“A hunt for _bilgesnipe_. We pursued the beast late into the night, and in the dark and damp of a great storm we grew confused and he struck me with his horn. The healers wondered if they could salvage the leg at all by the time Loki and the others brought me to them. But they did their work well; it does not even pain me.”

“Can I see it?

“Of course.” Thor hefted up his hips and slithered out of his jeans. He wore tight boxer-briefs, and Steve wondered at the anachronism of it. A thousands year old god wearing Calvin Klein. Steve sat up as Thor rolled over to his side and showed him the scar. There in the low light of the lamp, Steve saw the large whorling, jagged mark run from his hip under the briefs all the way down his thigh, spanning around his thick leg. To Steve it looked like a long, spidery discolored hand, fingers big enough to wrap over Thor’s leg. He stared at it for a long time. He did not even notice that he had started running his fingers along the ghastly lines.

“Does it trouble you?” Thor asked.

Steve shook his head. He bent down and pressed his lips on the scar, just like Thor had done to him, to his scars, weeks ago. He looked up and met Thor’s eyes. They were quiet for a moment before Thor huffed a soft laugh, his cheeks a tinge pinker under his beard.

“You’re so theatric sometimes,” he murmured. He pulled Steve back down next to him, and pulled the covers up to their chests.

Thor’s bed was warm.

_Exhale._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually pretty sure Steve would know Hawaii is a state by now. Matt Murdock is a babe. 'Snipejackten' isn't a word.


	16. Chapter 16

Steve woke up one morning, sat up in his bed and stretched. It was empty. Bruce and Tony had called Thor down to the lab at an ungodly hour having pulled an all-nighter, having questions about some Asgardian tech and Steve generously offered to keep the bed warm for him. He fell back asleep to Thor running a hand through Steve’s hair.

Steve wandered over to the bathroom, then made his way to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Tony had bought him a small, two cup coffee maker and grinder after he had complained about the machine with the pods, and that the one ‘real’ coffee maker was all the way down in the community kitchen. He scratched his head, and cracked his neck as he went through the living room, yawning off the last bits of sleep as he made his way into the kitchen, squinting at the bright sunlight coming in through the window.

He stepped over to the cabinet to reach for the coffee beans, and stepped in a lukewarm puddle of water.

“Wha—“

Steve looked down. It was not water. It was blood. Bright red against the pale wood of the kitchen floor, large drops and dollops of it in a path past the cabinets, around the kitchen island. His heart dropped into his stomach. Steve followed the line and almost tripped on a body leaning up against the counter.

“Bucky,” Steve could barely whisper. “Oh my god, Bucky! God, what happened?”

Bucky was broken. His face was black and blue, cracked and bleeding, and he was limply holding one of Steve’s kitchen towels to his abdomen, where it was heavy and sticky with blood. His leg was bent at an odd angle underneath him. He was still wearing his black uniform, but when Steve touched him on the chest, his hand came away red and tacky with blood as well. He knelt closer, feeling it soak up into his pajama pants, scent heavy in nostrils. Bucky’s skin was cold. Steve tried to gingerly touch his forehead, and it was cold and clammy; the skin underneath his hand quivering at the touch. 

“Jarvis, help,” Steve heard himself saying. “Jarvis, get help. Please.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Stevie,” Bucky slurred. “It’s over. I did it. It’s done.”

“What? No, no, no, don’t talk, stop talking. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“You, they were coming for you. I did it for you. I was so confused, but I knew I had to stop them. But then I— but I had to come back. I had to tell you.” His breath caught in his throat, and he coughed and leaned his head back against the cabinet. He coughed again, and to Steve’s horror a trickle of blood ran down from his lips.

“No, it’s okay, it can wait. Help’s coming, you’ll be alright. We can talk later. We’ll talk for hours. Just like we used to. Don’t talk now. Don’t—”

“I love you,” 

Steve’s blood turned cold in his veins. 

“I had to tell you. _Bucky_ , he had to tell you. I did it for you, the base, I did it for you. Everything. All for you.”

“Buck…”

“I’ve loved you for so long,” Bucky said with a weak, wet sob.

“I love you too. Oh god, I love you too.” Steve leaned in and kissed him. Feeling the sticky blood against his skin and in his beard, and feeling Bucky’s cold lips just barely move against his. Hot tears were streaming down Steve’s face, and as he pulled back, Bucky closed his eyes. Steve felt a swell of fresh panic rise in his throat. N _o, no, no, no, no, no, no—_ “Bucky open your eyes. Stay awake, please, please, come on, open your eyes—”

Bucky started coughing again, just barely sputtering out more blood, and there was a crash at the door as people started flooding in. Steve did not see them, all he saw was Bucky who’s body had started spasming against the cabinet, and he just tried to hold Bucky still. To keep him safe.

_He’s dying._

_Again._

Steve could not breathe. A thick arm pulled him back from Bucky’s body and Bruce, Natasha and a pair of the in-house doctors from Tony’s R&D department started working on Bucky — _“Were they fighting?” “It’s not his blood. Help Barnes.” “Get him on his back. Hold his head.” “I can’t find a pulse.” “He’s seizing!” —_ Steve fought against whatever was holding him back, trying to get back to Bucky’s side. He heard screaming, realizing only vaguely that it was coming from him. He flailed madly against strong arms, and was pulled even further back.

“Let them work, Steven.”

“No, no, no!”

“Come, you should not have to see this.”

“No! Let go! Bucky!”

“He’s not breathing.”

“Open his shirt. Get the defibrillator.”

“Will that affect the metal arm?”

“Just do it!”

Beeping, machines whirring, the doctors shouting medical jargon over Steve’s screams. Natasha was murmuring in Russian at Bucky’s ear, the smell of new and old blood filling the air. Steve kept fighting at the arms around him, kicking into the air, and gasping for breath, sobbing, screaming, screaming, screaming. _No, no, no, no._

“BUCKY!”

* * *

 

They sedated Steve. He stood in a haze at the observation window in the surgical suite at the hospital. Perhaps on a normal person the sedative would have been enough to knock him out cold, but Steve was left half awake, half asleep as his body burned through the chemicals too quickly. Steve could not tell if it was the sedative that left a foul taste on his tongue, or just the remnants of Bucky’s cooling blood in his nose, in his throat. Thor was next to him, holding him steady as he wobbled back and forth. Steve could not even hear what the doctors were saying through the observation room speakers; their words were just floating over his head.

It was Thor who pulled him off Bucky, Thor who held him steady as he screamed and sobbed, Thor who tried to convince Steve to put on clean clothes, and wash the blood off of his hands and face — _his feet_ , Steve had stepped in Bucky’s blood barefoot, irreverent, unclean, and he thought of Sunday school, and standing in the presence of god, and drying clean feet with hair, and his feet weren’t clean and _he should have watched his step_ — and then Thor who let him be and stood by his side when Steve refused to do anything other than watch as the doctors cut into his best friend and started removing bullets and shrapnel.

Bruce finally showed up, Tony alongside him.

“They’re almost done,” Bruce said, with a soft touch to Steve’s shoulder.

“Will he survive?” Thor asked.

“They’re putting him in a room in the ICU, but we don’t know yet.”

“It’s one of the same guys who helped us when Steve was here. He knows to keep an eye out for any serum-esque enhancements Barnes might have.”

“When?” Steve croaked. It was the first thing he said in hours. His throat was raw from screaming.

“When what?” Tony asked.

“When will we know?” Steve finally turned to Bruce and Tony. “If he’ll make it?”

“When he wakes up,” said Bruce.

“And will he?” Thor asked, moving minutely closer to Steve, warm and bracing at his side.

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

* * *

 

Steve woke when a small hand shook his shoulder. He had a brief moment where he did not know what had happened or where he was, but then he heard the beep of the heart-rate monitor and it clicked back into place. The first thing his eyes opened to was a metal hand, laying limp on the bed next to Bucky.“I brought coffee,” said a voice, as Steve blinked and rubbed his face. He looked up and saw Natasha with two large Starbucks cups on a tray in her hand. “And a breakfast sandwich.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, sure Rogers. 500 calories down the hatch, let’s go. That’s barely a snack for you anyway.”

She shoved the pastry bag at him and went to pull up another chair before setting the tray down on the small table. Steve took a bite out of the breakfast sandwich, almost moaning as the delicious, desperately needed food touched his tongue, but he made sure to shoot a spiteful look at Natasha all the same.

He looked around the room, “I thought Thor was here,” he said at last after swallowing. The bracing, warm presence of the god at his side was the only constant in all this, and to have him not here was more disconcerting than Steve wanted to admit. “He was here before I—“

“Fell asleep for seven hours?”

“Seven?! _Seven_ hours? Has Bucky wo—“

“No. He’s still out cold. Won’t wake for at least a day” She glared when Steve threw her an exasperated look. “There’s been someone actually awake in here the entire time. What kind of people do you think we are? He hasn’t woken up. You’re the only one who fell asleep on the clock, though that might have been the drugs.” He let out a low curse, and she gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s fine, we would’ve woken you if anything happened. We wanted to let you sleep.”

“And has something happened? Is that why you’re here?”

He turned and watched her face. It was outstandingly neutral. He almost laughed thinking that he could have gotten a read on her. He must be more tired than he thought.

“He’s dangerous, Steve.”

“Always has been,” Steve replied. He thought of Bucky during the war, the sharpshooter who saved their asses from afar more times than he could remember. Bucky who more than once pummeled guys in alleys to save Steve. Bucky who killed him on the helicarrier and then saved him from the Potomac.

“I’m dangerous too,” Steve said after a while. “No one remembers that I’m dangerous too.”

“They’re arguing about what to do with him.”

“Then it would probably do them some good to remind them how dangerous I am.”

Natasha scoffed. “Quit being so dramatic.”

“He’s staying here, or I’m going with him. Or we’re running. I assume Tony wants him as far away from here as he can get. Fury wants him locked up.”

“Fury yes, Tony no. That’s the argument. That’s where Thor is. Clint’s there too.”

“I don’t follow.”

“They want him here. For your sake if nothing else. And I already weighed in; if what’s left of SHIELD touches him, I’m gone. We’re all gone. We’re all with you, Stevie.”

Steve did not quite know how to respond to that.

“Don’t call me Stevie.”

He looked at Bucky, and the arm. It was incredible to him the emotion and the bile the metal arm raised in Steve’s throat. Especially since, when looking at Bucky’s face all Steve could feel was something far more painful and far more deep than just love. He looked at the arm. It caught the light. It caught the eye. He shifted up in his chair, putting the sandwich down in his lap and leaning towards Bucky. He rested his hand on Bucky’s thigh instead. In a different world, he’d have Bucky’s hand in his. But he did not want that this time. The cold metal glared at him, and all Steve wanted to do was rip it from Bucky’s side.

 


	17. Chapter 17

_“I love you.”_

_“I did it for you.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I did it for you.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I love you.”_

_“I did it for you.”_

 

Steve wanted to scream or vomit, but he couldn’t decide which. Bucky’s words kept echoing in his head, over, and over, and over, and over. No one had given the small bunker in Russia a second glance, but now that it was a smoldering ruin, filled with bodies, with bullet holes, with blood, with what was a chair now destroyed beyond recognition, it was suddenly very important. Fury, Hill and Coulson were there gathering what intel was left, and Natasha was relaying it to Steve on the hour as she received it. Steve did not leave Bucky’s side. No one even knew how Bucky managed to make it all the way back to New York, _just to die on the kitchen floor._

The Hydra agents at the bunker had a plan to attack the Avengers. They had a plan to attack Steve, to kill him, to drain his blood and try to recreate the serum. Steve did not care about that though. They were the ones who gave Bucky the arm. Steve had not been able to kill them himself. 

_“I did it for you.”_

A warm hand jostled Steve’s shoulder shaking him from his dark thoughts. “Steven, look. He is waking up.”

Steve shot up, and looked over at Bucky. Thor rested his hand on Steve’s back, and it was enough to keep Steve from flying away with relief as he watched Bucky wake. The man on the bed groaned a little. His head lolled to the side, and his blue eyes finally opened and met Steve’s.

“Stevie?”

The metal hand waved vaguely on the bed, and Steve took it, trying not to wince as the cold metal touched his skin. He did not look at it. He met Bucky’s eyes and tried to smile, and tried not to smile too hard all at once. “Hi. Yeah, Buck. I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Good… good.”

Then Bucky closed his eyes once more and the metal hand went limp in Steve’s grip. Steve’s heart clenched in his chest. “Is he—?”

“He’ll be fine,” a doctor with a clipboard at the end of the bed said reassuringly. “He still needs monitoring but he woke up, and that’s what we were waiting for. He’ll be very out of it for a few days.”

“Okay… Right, okay.” He still felt like screaming. But Bucky had woken up. Steve could breathe, at least a little bit.

“This is good, Steven.” Thor said behind him. “He will pull through. He is strong.”

“Will he?” Steve asked, looking at the doctor. “Pull through?”

“I believe so, yes,” said the doctor. “But not for a while. He’s still on morphine and he was very malnourished when he came in. I expect a full recovery, but it will take time.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Steve stared at Bucky for a moment longer. His eye caught sight of the metal arm. Then he stood up, and walked out from the room.

* * *

 

Thor found him in the gym back at tower, pounding on a bag, bare-knuckled, breaking skin. Rd splotches marred the white bag, soaking into the canvass as Steve kept punching. He did not realize where he had been sprinting to when he left the hospital. Block after city block fell from his feet as he slammed against the pavement. He just needed to run, needed to get out, needed something—

_“I did it for you.”_

Steve kept punching. He could feel the impact in his arms, jostling his bones, ripping through his muscles.

_“I did it for you.”_

Steve kept punching. His breath came hard and fast, tearing out of his nostrils, lungs straining.

_“I did it for you.”_

_“I did it for you.”_

_“I did it for you.”_

_“I did it for you.”_

“Steven?”

Steve screamed and punched so hard, the canvas split right through the middle bleeding sand out onto the floor at his feet. Without thinking, he reached up and unhooked it — no surprise that the reinforced bracket that Tony built lasted longer than the bag — tossed it aside and reached to grab another, wordlessly locking it into place with a click.

“I would have thought Sargent Barnes waking would have been cause for celebration,” Thor said walking around the bag. “Though many celebrations on Asgard ended in property destroyed. Why should here be any different?”

“I want to be alone Thor.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt, but you already know I won’t leave you. So, come on. Again.” He waved his hand, and then braced against the bag holding it still. Steve sighed and started punching once more, secretly glad of the extra resistance. “Natasha and Clint are watching over Barnes. The doctor said that he believed your friend to have healing powers nearly comparable to yours. He will survive.”

“Yeah.”

“Your stance is weak. Grip up.”

Steve fumbled a little, breaking his rhythm. “What? My stance isn’t weak.”

“I can promise you it is. You’re favoring your left side, and then putting too much into those strikes. You can see it in your feet. You’ll break your left arm if you keep that up.”

“I’ll heal.”

“Yes, you’ve told me as much. But it is better to get it right the first time. If you are going to kill yourself this way at least do it properly.”

“God damn it, Thor.” Steve stopped punching and finally looked up at the man holding the bag.

“I will let you destroy every punching bag here, goading and chiding you all the while. Or you can tell me what is wrong. You always fall silent. Speaking will ease your troubles.”

“Even I don’t have enough years left to tell you everything that is wrong, and we don’t even know how long I’m going to live.”

“I’d give you eternity if you asked for it.”

Steve met Thor’s eyes, blue, sincere, patient. He believed him. Steve wasn’t sure if that was part of the problem or not. He let out a shuddering breath, realizing he was panting, worked up to exhaustion, and he stepped forward and put his forehead against the bag. Thor reached around and cupped the back of his neck, hand steady and warm. Steve’s eyes slipped closed.

“I just— Bucky just—“

“Go on.”

“He said something. When I found him. When he—“ _was dying on my kitchen floor._

“What did he say?”

“That he loved me.”

“But you knew that already. I’ve met him once, and I knew that. I can’t imagine someone meeting you and not feeling the same. Even I—” Thor stopped himself, and Steve knew what he was going to say. He did not want to think about that. Thor ran his fingers through Steve’s hair, his thumb soft on Steve’s jaw, which spoke volumes more than any words, and Steve let himself lean into the touch just barely. If he thought about it later, he might try and tell himself he was just too tired to hold himself up. Steve knew he would be lying.

“Bucky said ‘I did it for you.’ He was talking about the Hydra base he destroyed. He said he did it for me. He knew he was dying. He knew it was gonna kill him.”

“That was where he was made into the Winter Soldier, I read—“

“He was born in Brooklyn, he wasn’t made anywhere.” Steve snapped.

“Apologies. I merely meant— I read the file. That is where they broke him. _He_ needed it destroyed.”

“Then why say he did it for me? Natasha said they were planing an attack against us. He should have just told us that from the beginning. Hell, I could have helped him. We all could have helped.” _I should have helped. I should have done it. It should have been me._

“Some things one must do alone.”

“Even if it’ll kill ‘em?”

“Especially then.”

“I just—“ he looked down at the floor, still covered with sand from the bag he broke. The words were so hard to pull from this throat. “He said he did it for me. I don’t want him dying for me. Not again. Not ever. It was—“ _What was it? Were there even words for what he felt?_ “—it was hard enough the first time.”

Thor did not speak for a moment, and then, “His first fall?”

“Yeah. He was under my command. He was following me.”

“I cannot think of a better leader.”

“Peggy said he must have thought I was worth it.”

“Than she is wiser than you,” Thor said with a small smile.

Steve snorted at that. “Yeah, she was always a lot smarter than me.”

Thor paused for a beat before speaking again, voice soft, but level “I understand that it may feel a terrible weight to bear, but I believe each of us, your shield-mates here, would all die for you without hesitation. Barnes is no different.” Steve opened his mouth to protest but Thor spoke on. “And it is not because you are our leader, or our better, or because we are worse or flawed in some way you are not. It is because we know you would die for us. We know that you are our true shield, in every way. You are worthy of it. Because you believe we are worthy of you. That is also why we have kept you from going on missions. We would not have you die for us in vain because your mind is not with you, and you think that is the only way.”

Steve couldn’t say anything. Thor’s hand was still on his neck. He reached up and held onto Thor’s forearm, like a lifeline as he stared down at the sand from the punching bag. He allowed himself a moment. This was easier. Thor was so much stronger than he was. _Thor is stronger than you’ll ever be._ And Thor was right. He looked up and met Thor’s eyes. He knew Thor would die for him. Bucky would die for him. Steve hated thinking of it, and the strong hand at his neck, and the thick arm under his hand lifted the weight of it from his shoulders. It made him think for a minute that he might be worthy of such loyalty. _You’re not._ It distracted him, if only for a moment.

He thought of Bucky lying on the hospital bed. The churn in his stomach whenever he saw the arm. The work needed to help him. He wanted so much to be there for Bucky, but he was certain that he was not, nor ever could be enough. Wasn’t strong enough, or good enough, or brave enough to help. He loved Bucky, but he could not help him. It was not fair. Useless, wet tears hit the sand at his feet.

“I can’t do this,” he finally admitted, choking back a wet gasp. It hurt to say it. He had always believed was a psychology behind things spoken; speaking it out loud gave it power, and the words left Steve feeling raw at the confession. This was it. This was his issue.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t help him. I’m not—“ _strong enough, good enough, brave enough._

“You won’t be alone,” Thor replied with a soft squeeze. “Do you hear me, Steven? I will not let you do this on your own.”

Steve nodded. For a small moment, for eternity, Steve believed him. For a heartbeat he wanted to give Thor all his frustration, all his gratitude, all his fears, and all his sorrows, because Thor would be able to carry them. This was not love in the same way he loved Bucky. This was different. But it was love all the same; fragile, and hopeful, and exhausted and squeezed from his marrow like a rag being twisted of excess water. He looked at Thor’s bright eyes, and for that moment he thought he could face the future. And that was terrifying.

Like gravity’s pull, he stepped around the punching bag towards Thor and kissed him. It was the first time, first real kiss, since the night Bucky had asked Thor about his promise, Steve realized. It was still electric, still lightning, but this was a little different; the eye of the storm.

They broke apart, and he rested his forehead against Thor’s, content to just breathe him in.

“Thank you,” Steve said at last.

Thor nodded against him. “There is nothing to thank. Go to your quarters and rest, bathe, sleep. I will return to the hospital to watch over Barnes in your stead. Tony or Bruce will watch him tonight, then you and I can return together tomorrow.”

Steve felt a bubble of protest rising inside of him, but looking at Thor and meeting his eyes, it died in his stomach. These were orders. He could follow orders. “Okay… alright.”

He thought he was going to pull back and walk away, but he could not make his body move that way. He stepped forward and rested his head on Thor’s shoulder, half grateful for the warm embrace of the god’s arms. Thor let out a great sigh above him, and Steve felt it through his chest.

“You are not alone in this, Steven. If I had any power, it would be to make sure you knew that.”

He rubbed a warm hand on Steve’s back and they finally broke apart. Thor walked him to the elevators, and Steve stepped in, leaning back against the wall after hitting the button to his apartment. He let out a breath, and all he could think was how much colder he felt without Thor there beside him.

 


	18. Chapter 18

Steve stepped into Bucky’s hospital room and froze. The bed was empty. His heart dropped, he spun around and looked in the halls, reaching for behind his back for the shield on instinct alone, reaching to his hip for a gun, for anything before—

“You’re here early,” Thor said from down the hall walking towards Steve, shaking him from his panic. “They took Barnes to conduct a test. Natasha is with him.” 

“He’s out of bed?” _Just a test, he’s still here, he’s fine. It’s fine._ He steadied his breathing, feeling his heart pounding madly in his chest.

“Not for too long hopefully. The healers — _doctors_ , apologies — said that they wanted to scan his mind, study his heart now that he’s awake. Should he heal they will see the where improvements have happened, and will not miss any um— ‘red flags’? I’m sorry, I do not know the phrase.”

“He should be resting.”

“So should you; you look weary still. We did not expect you for another hour or more.”

“I needed to see—“ he shook his head. “He’s been asleep the last couple of times I’ve been here.”

“He will heal soon enough. You will have many a waking hour with him.”

“But what if— never mind, it’s fine. I’m here now, I’ll wait until he’s out.”

He followed Thor back into Bucky’s room, and they sat down on the small chairs next to the bed. Steve stared at the empty bed for a moment, still on edge. _He had thought—_ it did not matter, Bucky was fine. He let out a long breath; his skin felt prickly with adrenaline still.

Thor touched his shoulder and Steve flinched violently. He and Thor exchanged a look, and he shook his head, steadying his breathing. “Sorry,” Steve murmured.

“Look here,” Thor said patiently. “A distraction. I can smell the need of it coming off you.”

“You’ve said something like that before, Thor.” _“Distraction can help this feeling. I know from experience,”_ Thor had said that night. _“The night is young. There are other things we can do to keep your mind from your troubles.”_ “I hope you don’t expect to do something untoward with me. Here in the hospital room, no less. Traumatize some poor nurse if she walks in on us.”

Thor barked out a laugh. “No, nothing quite so degenerate.” Then, of all things, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times and handed it to Steve. It was playing music, and there was a picture of a ninja with a sword climbing up a wall, the start screen to [a game](https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/ninjump/id379471852?mt=8%20). The little red cape attached to Thor’s ‘Thor’ phone case was surprisingly soft against Steve’s palms. He imagined it would be just a little bit scratchy.

“You tap the device and it makes the little man in black jump from side to side. You avoid obstacles. You try to go as far as you can before falling.” Steve nodded and hit the ‘play’ button. “Yes, that’s it. Now if you hit any of the creatures three times in a row in the air, it is ‘a boost.’ That is what Darcy called it, I believe. Oh! Get that! That is a shield!”

“Is the game going faster?”

“Aye! Watch out. No, no, no, no, no! That explodes!”

“Is that a rocket?!”

“No don’t—“

Steve’s little ninja fell down and out of the screen with a yell, and the two men groaned. Steve and Thor relaxed for a moment with a sigh, sitting back in their chairs. Steve huffed out a small laugh, meeting Thor’s eye before they started the game again.

They went a few rounds, passing the phone back and forth, getting ever higher scores when Thor’s phone chirped in Steve’s hand; a text from Natasha.

“She says it looks like it’s gonna be longer than she thought,” Steve murmured. “At least two hours.”

“Have you eaten?” Thor asked. Steve shook his head. “Then come.” He took his phone, and tapped out of the game, messaged Natasha, and then went into a different application. They stood up and walked from the room down the hall. “This will guide us. Tony has recommended a place for sushi.”

“You eat sushi?”

“Steven, I eat everything. Look at me. As a growing youth my parents feared I would be as a pestilence on the crops and stock of Asgard, leaving nothing for our subjects as I ate my way through the palace’s kitchens.”

Steve gave a small laugh as they left the hospital.

* * *

 

“Tell me what troubles you,” Thor said around a piece of sashimi.

“Chopsticks are kind of troubling right now. How do you know how to use chopsticks? I’ve been using them for months and still can barely pick up anything.”

“You’re impatient with them, that is all.”

Steve rolled his eyes and finally managed to get an unagi roll between his chopsticks and ate it, chewing quickly, eyeing the plate to see what he would try next.

“You are hungry.”

“Well, yeah,” Steve said, swallowing. “I’m always hungry. Increased metabolism. It was the worst during the war. I was still getting used to the new body and we were all out in the field with just rations. Bucky’d always give me some of his. Hell, he actually was doing that before I even got the serum. He was a bit of a mother hen.”

“Well, someone must keep you fed.”

“Yeah, but is it gonna be you or Bucky?”

Steve did not know why he asked the question. His eyebrows shot up after he said it. He did not even realize he was thinking the words until they were out of his mouth. But that was a problem. Steve knew there was something — _something_ — between him and Thor. And now there was something between him and Bucky; there had always been something between him and Bucky if he was being brutally honest. He had loved Bucky since he was fourteen and Bucky had told him not to climb a tree to save a cat, but then came up with Steve anyway. They had both fallen, Bucky had scrapped his leg, and Steve broke his wrist. But that was years ago, decades. Now he had that still, but he had the night with Thor, the warm bed with Thor. He had both of them, he had _something_ with both of them. The two _somethings_ could not coexist. Among all the other problems he had, being grounded from missions, Bucky’s recovery, and Hydra to mention a few, Steve hated to admit that he was having honest to god relationship issues.

“Both of us, I’d imagine,” Thor replied, feigning ease. Steve looked at him, and saw that his eyes were just minutely more doleful. If he had not been spending all this time with him over the past few weeks and months he might not have been able to see it. But it was there; Thor was concerned about something, even if he would not admit to it. “You forget I made a promise to Barnes. You cannot be rid of me so easily.”

“I don’t want to be rid—“ He bit back the words looking away. Thor hummed and nudged a plate of California Rolls across the table and over to him. “Things are different, now. Right?”

“Are they?” Thor asked.

“Aren’t they?”

“Have you made some vow, some solemn promise to not change when change happens upon you?”

“What?”

“We are in a river, Steven. The currents will take us where they will take us. It is no wonder you’re so exhausted as you keep fighting it. The river will always win. I have had to learn this lesson many times, but accept it now. I would have hoped you would have picked it up faster than I.”

Steve was reminded of something Clint said; _“Go with the flow.”_ It still did not make any sense to Steve.

“I’m talking about you and me, Thor. And Bucky.”

“As am I.” Thor sighed. “Eat your sushi. Shall we share another Rainbow Roll?” Steve stared at him as he looked over towards for the waiter. “Close your mouth or you will catch a honey fairy.”

“I slept with you, Thor. I’ve been sleeping in your bed. We’ve been—“ _something. We’ve been something together._

“I know, I was there. I do not understand where your confusion comes from.”

“What are we?” Steve asked, hissing across the table.

Thor regarded him, brow furrowed. “Friends, Steven. First and foremost, no matter what else we engage in. Can you agree on that?”

“Yes.”

“And brothers-in-arms. Is this not true?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“And we glean comfort from one another in ways both large and small. Mainly small these days, but no less a comfort, yes?” Steve nodded. “I would not have these things change by the mere presence of another friend and shield-brother. Sargent Barnes is a noble man; it would be an honor to share time with him. I would still have you as a friend, as a warrior together as you help Barnes come back to the world where he belongs.”

“And ‘gleaning comfort?’” 

“If you ever have need of me in that regard, I will be there.” Thor smiled but it did not quite reach his eye.

Steve sat back and looked at the plates of food before them. That was not exactly what he wanted to hear. He did not know what he wanted to hear from Thor. He felt even more confused as the waiter brought another plate over to them.

“Eat, Steven. You are exhausted. I saw you when you came in and thought something happened to Barnes. I would not see you so scared. I would have thought Barnes his return would lessen your grief. And you are grounded from missions; all you must do is see your friend better, and see yourself better. There are worse tasks.”

They ate for a little bit. Steve forced himself to calmly use the chopsticks, but was still struggling.

“You make it sound so simple,” he said after a moment.

“That is merely because I’m not intelligent enough to make things complicated.” Steve blinked at Thor. “Loki was always the smart one; the complicated one. I used to envy him it, but not so anymore.”

“Why not?”

“It is when things are complicated, when you think too hard on something that the world can become cruel against you and your mind. You misinterpret things, rather than take them as they are presented.”

“You think that’s what happened to Loki?”

“No, I believe our father kept a vital secret from him, it drove him mad and caused him to lash out violently and without remorse multiple times. It killed him in the end… _twice_. But—“ he stopped staring at the table.

“But what?”

He sighed. “It matters not. I think too long on my brother and my mind will grow dark.” He huffed, and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Are you finished eating?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Steve sat quietly as Thor paid the bill and packed up the rest of their sushi in a small cardboard box. He was still confused. He watched Thor easily joke with the waiter, and stand comfortably, brushing down his shirt. He held a hand out for Steve and helped Steve slide out from the booth. They grabbed their jackets and set off back towards the hospital. _This is about you and me and Bucky,_ he thought to himself. _This shouldn’t feel so hard._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up 'honey fairies.' I cannot imagine they'd have flies in Asgard. Also, [NinJump](https://itunes.apple.com/us/app/ninjump/id379471852?mt=8%20) was a big factor in keeping me sane during multiple finals weeks throughout my college career.


	19. Chapter 19

Steve was heading out of the tower a few days later when he bumped into Tony in the lobby. Tony twirled around to face him, stopping him with a hand on his chest, lowering his sunglasses down on his nose.

“You off to the hospital?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.”

“You eaten today?”

“Umm. Yeah. Or well, no. I mean, I had some coffee—“

“Not good enough. Let’s go eat. Burgers and fries, come on.” He grabbed Steve by the arm and started walking towards the elevator to the garage, pulling Steve along.

“Why does everybody keep trying to feed me?”

“Because you need to get fed. I don’t remember you being this bad at it before though.”

“I’m supposed to give Thor and Clint a break,” Steve tried even as Tony whipped out his phone, typing with one hand. “They’re watching—“

“And now they know you’ll be a little late.” Steve sighed. “Don’t even try to get out of this. You need to eat. You look like shit.”

“Fine, but I’m buying.”

Tony snorted. “Yeah, sure thing, Big Bird.”

“What?”

* * *

That was how Steve found himself in the small diner. He had all but absorbed the two hamburgers and was working on his third plate of fries. Tony watched Steve tear through his food with a calm glee while he himself sipped his milkshake and serenely worked through his single sandwich. It had been a few days since Bucky had first woken up. Steve had been there a few times when he was awake since, but at Thor and the rest of the team’s insistence, was sent back to the tower more often then not after only a few hours of keeping watch over the injured assassin at a time.

“You gotta keep up the calorie count better, man,” Tony said as Steve finally finished and leaned back.

“Been a little distracted.”

“No kiddin.’”

They fell silent. Steve thought of Tony as his friend, but realized right then that they had not actually ever been alone together for any extended period of time.

“I heard what you did,” Steve began after a while. “Fighting with Fury to keep Bucky here with us. I mean, I guess everyone did, but I didn’t think you would… and then you did.”

“Yep. That I did. We all did. I mean, Clint’s clearly in camp ‘support the formerly brainwashed,’ and Thor looked ready to quite literally bring the thunder over it. I couldn’t blame him. We just figured it’d be better for everyone involved if we just kept him here on the down low, fake identity, and away from Fury. The tower’s as safe as anywhere that isn’t a cell.”

“How safe can it be? Bucky broke in twice.”

“I’ll make him security liaison. And hey! That’s great, he’s an employee too; even more faux legitimacy.”

“But why you? Why did you help with Fury?”

“Excuse me?”

“I just… it doesn’t seem like you. But I don’t know you very well. Obviously.”’

“No, probably not.”

“I’m sorry. I was—“

“It doesn’t matter.” Tony wiped his hands on his napkin and took a sip from his milkshake. “Really, don’t worry about it. We can start fixing our relationship problems starting now; sound good honey-cakes?”

“Yeah, Tony. It sounds good.”

“Besides, I got to fight with Fury. Even you gotta admit that that’s super fun.”

Steve snorted and Tony giggled before being distracted by a buzz from his phone. They sat in silence for a moment. Steve fiddled with a french fry, pushing it around his plate and through his dollop of ketchup.

“Jarvis told me about your research,” He continued, setting the phone back down. “It wasn’t his fault; I asked. After our favorite one-armed assassin turned you into a pin-cushion. Jarvis is programed to tell me secrets if I ask him directly. I try not to for privacy’s sake, but there you were all pin-cushiony. Just, you know. on the off chance you didn’t make it, I wanted to check there was no weird porn or something not quite patriotic in case of a leak after your unfortunate demise.”

Steve stared at him, uncomprehending. He opted to dismiss most of what Tony had just said. “My research?” he asked.

“The human nervous system. The metal arm. More specifically removing the metal arm.” Tony noisily stirred the spoon in the metal tin with his milkshake, cold condensation dripping down onto the table. He took a napkin after a moment and wiped up the water, and after taking a bite of the thick milkshake, put the cup carefully on top of it.

“It can’t be removed. The arm it— it can’t be removed.” That was the first time Steve said it out loud, and he hated the words in his mouth.

“It could be. Anything can be removed if you pull hard enough. That’s physics for ya. Loss-gain factor though means it’s probably not worth it. You know, it would kill him. Whoops. That’s no good. There’s another alternative though.”

“Like what?”

“Upgrades. It’s relatively old tech. I mean, advanced as hell, but well, I can always make things more advanced.”

“What could you do?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I—“ Steve couldn’t form the words. He wanted it gone, but that wasn’t happening. He wanted things to make sense. He wanted to know what he was supposed to do. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. That’s Bucky’s call anyway.”

“Yeah. Of course. I’d actually love for him to have some ideas about it.”

“How do you mean?”

“Steve let me tell you something. I’ve got a fair bit of experience with being captured by dangerous assholes and having them violently change your body as you watch and can’t do anything about it. Literally one of the first things I did after a few torture sessions was build a new power-source for my—” he cleared his throat, and tapped at his tie “—charming chest implant. Of course, I’d tell people it was because it didn’t seem practical to be running on a car battery, but the truth is that all I wanted to do was rip the thing out.”

Steve stared at Tony. The man’s face had grown minutely darker.

“There was a part of me that did not care that it would kill me; I wanted it gone that badly. Then self-preservation skills set in so I built my own mini arc-reactor, and then built another one the moment I came home. Act of reclamation I suppose. I made plans for dozens of different versions before I had the surgery to just take it out. Even now I’ll sometimes wake up clutching at the scar hard enough to draw blood because I dream the damn thing is still in there. I used the arc reactor as a tool for the Iron Man suits, but I never chose to have it. I tried to make the best out of a really fucked up situation.”

“I didn’t realize. I mean, I read your file, but I didn’t—“ _didn’t think about it like that._

“Barnes didn’t choose to have the arm either. I mean, given the time frame, he is probably used to it by now to a point where it’s part of him. He hasn’t had a say in it so long, it might not be possible for him to know how he’d want to change it, let alone that he could. To him it could very well be just his arm.”

“Maybe we can convince him.”

“You can try but that’d be the wrong thing to do.”

“How?”

“Steve, it’s like you said. It’s his call. The only thing you can do is accept his choice.”

Peggy’s words echoed in his head. Thor’s words echoed in his head. Respecting Bucky’s decisions and choices was becoming harder and harder each passing day.

“He makes stupid choices,” Steve murmured at last.

“Yeah, well so do you. We all do. Pretty sure that’s one of the prerequisites of being an Avenger. Hell, have you met me? I’m the poster-boy for stupid choices. Shit. The only person I know who didn’t make stupid choices was Pepper, then she started dating me. What can you do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark; low-key obsessed with the Muppets.


	20. Chapter 20

Steve stepped into the hospital room quietly. Neither Bucky nor Thor noticed. Thor was telling Bucky a story about his past, bilgesnipe, great feasts. Steve leaned against the doorframe; watching the two of them, half-listening to the story. Bucky laughed softly at Thor’s stories, eyes crinkling at the corners, smile genuine and soft. He still looked pale. He looked perfect.

“Asgard is beautiful indeed. One day you shall come there, all of you. I know my people are curious about this team I have found myself in; the Avengers. They wonder about the humans I have chosen to align myself with, and rightly so.”

Steve could not help but study them from the doorway. They interacted so easily, it left Steve reeling a little bit. The two of them were relaxed around each other in a way that Steve could not quite wrap his head around. Bucky leaned in at Thor’s stories, and Thor gesticulated around their heads, making him chuckle. Finally, after a moment, the story drew to a close, but it was clear that Thor was winding up to tell the next one. Thor rested a large hand over Bucky’s metal one, leaning in to softly begin a new yarn. Steve’s breath caught in his throat. It was such an easy gesture. Thor’s hand was practically gold against Bucky’s silver. Thor did not seem to notice at all. As if the hand was just a hand, as if it wasn’t—

“Captain Rogers?” said a voice behind Steve, shaking him. Steve turned and saw Dr. Lin, the psychologist, standing in the hall with a clipboard. She smiled at him, but it did not look entirely happy. “You missed a discussion I had with Sargent Barnes and Thor. I told them I would update you when you arrived.”

“Is everything alright?”

“Relatively speaking, yes. He’s healing well; almost at the same rate you do, though his progress has been slowed down somewhat by malnourishment, trauma, stress.”

“That’s understandable.” It wasn’t understandable. It made Steve want to scream.

“And there’s been some psychological anomalies. The wiping technology used by Hydra have not done him any favors. His mind is returning back to a functioning, healthy one due to the advanced healing and not being tampered with anymore, but he is missing things.”

“I’d imagine. I mean, I read all that in the summary report you gave us.”

“There’s something else. A factor we weren’t anticipating.”

“What?”

“You.”

She explained it gently, but it still did not make sense to Steve. Bucky was terrified of hurting him, but it was not just a conscious fear, but something deeper — _a trigger_ , that’s what she called it. Bucky’s heart-rate would rise even when looking at pictures of Steve. He felt so out of control that he was worried that if he became panicked enough he would lose himself, reverting back to the Winter Soldier. He had known it even before he had gone to destroy the base in Russia. That was why he stayed away. He had been running for months because of his fear of hurting Steve, killing Steve. _“He was protecting you,_ ” Dr. Lin said. That did not make Steve feel much better. 

The next thing she said was even more confusing. _“Right now there’s one thing that is helping him cope. And that’s Thor.”_ Dr. Lin said she and the others on her team would be working on various medication and therapy combinations once his body was fully healed; things to help him stay calm, work with his PTSD, maybe reopen some channels in his mind that the wipes have shut down. But one thing was certain, he panicked at the thought of hurting Steve; he calmed down when Thor was close, because he believed that Thor could stop him.

“Right. Okay. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course. Let me know if you have any other questions.”

_How the hell did our lives come to this?_

“I’ll let you know.”

“Will you be alright? I know this can’t be easy for you.”

“I’m fine.”

 

 

Steve waved at her as she left, and went into Bucky’s room once more. Thor still had a warm hand on Bucky’s cold metal one. Thankfully that was enough of an excuse to move to Bucky’s other side on the bed, coming in with a warm smile. Bucky smiled back, and he looked the same as he used to. Steve’s heart hurt.

“Hey Buck,” he said. Bucky met his eye, so much clearer than before and still bright blue and perfect. He could have almost cried; the last few times he had been here, Bucky had been too hopped up on painkillers to even notice Steve.

“Hey Stevie.” His voice was soft, a little rough from disuse, but the same. _The same, the same._ “Your guy’s been telling me tall-tales.”

“Hardly! They’re all true, I assure you.”

“Maybe it’s just the pain stuff. Some of what you said just don’t make no sense.”

“Ah! Then I will tell the tales again when you are fully recovered. Pass judgement then and no sooner.”

“You still feeling out of it?” Steve asked.

“Kinda loopy,” he nodded slowly. Steve realized now his voice was loose from the pain medications and sedatives coursing through his veins. Steve thought it was the Brooklyn coming through; he hoped— “Yeah, a little loopy. Better than I’ve been; they lowered the dosage on something. Not good company though.”

“Nah, you’re the best company.”

“Except for Thor here. He’s something.”

“Yeah, he is.” Steve smiled across the bed at Thor, who smiled back, though it was through tired eyes. 

“Perhaps I should give you both some time alone?” Thor suggested. Bucky tensed, violently. It was a quick movement but a telling one. Steve and Thor regarded him for a moment. He looked away from them self-consciously. Thor spoke softly; “I will wait outside until you have need of me. I will be close.”

Thor stepped out of the room, shooting Bucky and Steve one last small smile. Then he was gone. 

“He’s a good guy, Stevie,” Bucky said after a minute.“I don’t mind him. I’m almost jealous of you getting some of that.”

“Who Thor? Yeah, yeah he’s good.”

“Didn’t mind Peggy either, you know. She’s a hell of a dame.”

“They don’t say ‘dame’ anymore, _at all,_ no one does,” Steve said. He knew he was deflecting, but he did not want to talk about Thor right now. Did not want to think about Bucky thinking about Thor and Peggy in the same way. He did not want to talk or think about anything like that, if he was honest. Not when Bucky was finally lucid enough to talk at all even with the presence of painkillers still. He would stay here for hours talking about nothing, because that is how it was supposed to be. Bucky raised his eyebrows. “I know,” Steve continued. “It’s sure something. Lot of stuff’s changed.”

“You know in the seventies, they called people ‘cats’? Maybe not ladies, it’s a little fuzzy. I wasn’t exactly at my best in the seventies. Though I don’t think anyone was their best in the seventies; you’re lucky you missed it, really. But, you know; ‘He’s a cool cat,’ or ‘That cat owes me money.’”

Steve huffed. “Strange.”

“Yeah.”

He looked at Bucky on the bed. “I can undo those cuffs, if you want. You don’t need ‘em.”

“No, _don’t_.” Bucky looked down at the leather cuff around his flesh arm and the mag-cuff on his metal one, eyes wide. “I asked for them. Just in case. Bucky said ‘just in case.’ He doesn’t— _fuck_.”

“Jesus, Buck…”

“Stevie, just in case, okay? Just in case.”

He sounded just like Bucky. He _was_ Bucky. _He still is_. Steve sighed and nodded. “Okay, Buck. Alright.” They fell quiet. Steve toed his shoes off and put his feet on the bed next to Bucky. Bucky immediately, easily wrapped his hand around Steve’s ankle, warm and comforting. This was alright. But the heart-rate monitor beeped a little faster. Bucky looked down at Steve’s foot, brow furrowed, eyes calculating. 

“It was switched,” Bucky said softly.

“Pardon?”

“Before. I’d put my feet up on the bed. Not you. Give you math homework. From Sister Catherine.”

“Well you’re the one in the bed this time, that’s all. Had to deal with your stinky feet for years, just returning the favor.” Steve tried to smile, but couldn’t quite do it. Bucky stared at Steve’s foot.

“It was switched,” he whispered once more.

“Do you want me to take ‘em off?”

“No, no it’s— it’s fine— it’s _exposure therapy._ ” He whispered the last words, brow tight. “Dr. Lin mentioned—“ he shook his head, cutting himself off.

“What is that?”

“Just keep your foot there.”

“Okay. No problem.” He paused. “How much do you remember?”

“That’s not— it’s not like memories— not anymore.”

“Tell me?”

Bucky struggled for the words, speaking slowly. He looked almost in pain and Steve immediately regretted asking. “Dr. Lin was saying that my brain is healing. The memories are coming back. But there’s a block; that’s one of the things they saw when they did the tests. Something’s blocking me, or blocking the old me. It’s just the images and the sounds. The wipes took something that might not be able to be healed back in. I know there’s supposed to be more, but it isn’t there. It’s like looking through a computer with files, not a life. The life is gone. Except when it’s not.”

“‘Except when it’s not’? When is the life not gone?”

Bucky shook his head and looked down at the blanket in his lap. “When Bucky’s screaming. There’s no block then.”

Steve looked away, clenching his jaw. “So that’s it? There’s either screaming or not screaming? No middle ground?” _It’s not fair._ He bit his lips to keep from cursing at the cards Bucky’d been dealt, from taking back the whole deck with only spit and hellfire to guide him. Bucky was screaming and Steve couldn’t do anything about it.Bucky’s heart-rate monitor was beeping a little faster than usual, and Steve couldn’t do anything about that either.

“The middle ground is coming back. Or it’s new memories. Bucky’s getting quieter. I don’t know. Dr. Lin said because of my knock-off serum my brain looks fine, relatively speaking. New memories are coming in like normal, almost. Bucky’s there, but he’s not screaming, you know? Almost normal.”

Steve nodded. Steve didn’t know. Steve had no idea.

“So what kind of stuff brings him here, but keeps him from screaming? Do you think we should try and focus on that stuff?”

“Doctor said I gotta focus on everything, good or bad.”

“Well yeah, but you gotta— I don’t know— the good stuff is a break from the bad stuff.”

“I guess. I don’t know.” He huffed out a pained laugh, before wincing and putting a hand on his abdomen, his head falling back on the pillow. “It’s my first time dealing with seventy years worth of torture and brain trauma. Be gentle.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, mine too.”

Bucky snorted and patted Steve on the ankle, leaning back deeper his pillow. Steve leaned back in the chair. This was alright, Steve thought.

“I told you my secret,” Bucky said after a moment.

“What?”

“I told you I love you, didn’t I? I didn’t even tell the Soviets that when they—” he trailed off. _When they tortured me_.

Steve force himself to smile, to not think about the horrors, “Yeah, you did. I only wish you had told me sooner.”

The heart-rate monitor beeped faster.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighed, and fiddled with the blanket on his lap. “I thought— I thought telling you would make him quiet. He thought that.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No. He thinks about being in love with you and he screams so loud.” Bucky huffed and the beeping on the monitor grew faster. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Get off— get off the bed. Stevie, now!”

Steve swung his legs off. “Okay, okay, it’s alright. Whatever it is it’s alright. It’s okay” Bucky grimaced, curling in on himself. “Do you want me to get someone, the doctors?”

“Thor. Get—“

“What?” _What?_

“He can stop—“ Bucky gasped, and pulled his hands to his head. Steve reached over to — _to what?_ — And tried to calm him down, hold his shoulders, his face, his head. The metal arm shot out and grabbed violently at Steve’s wrist, and Steve pulled back from his grip wincing at the cold metal digging into his skin. All Steve could hear was the screeching of Bucky’s heart-rate, racing through the room.

“Please!” Bucky cried out. Steve turned the door and shouted for Thor to come in. Before Steve could stop it, Thor was in the room and pulling Steve back and behind him, standing between Steve and Bucky. Steve could barely see Bucky over Thor’s shoulder, as Thor raised his hands in front of him slowly.

“Barnes, it is alright. It is alright. Nothing will happen whilst I’m here.”

Bucky nodded, breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He flopped back down onto the bed, “Fuck,” he whispered. _“Fuck!”_ But sure enough, Steve heard the heart rate monitor start to slow. All because Thor stood between the two of them. Steve cursed under his breath.

“The morphine the doctor spoke of? Would that help? Should you have some now?”

“That’s the last thing I fucking want.”

“You should rest. You should heal. That is all that matters.”

Steve saw Bucky nod, and reach for the small morphine drip remote, and he clicked it a few times.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.”

“It’s alright. It’s fine.” _It wasn’t fine._

Bucky’s body relaxed as the medicine kicked in, sinking into the bed. Steve thought that maybe he knew a little bit about someone screaming in his head then. That was all he could hear.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who majored in Classical Studies and doesn't know the first thing about brain-trauma and is making this up as she goes along. This chick.


	21. Chapter 21

“Listen, this is not what any of us had in mind for your first time back in the game, Cap.” Clint said over the phone. Steve sat in the hallway of the hospital; pulled from Bucky’s final check-in with the doctors before he got to go home. “It’s not even really back in the game, anyway. And we know the timing is bullshit, but we wouldn’t ask unless we needed it.”

“Clint, Bucky is going home today. I need to be here.”

“I know man, we’re sorry.”

“If you need someone intimidating, just take Natasha. She’s scary as hell–“ _“Thank you!”_ a small voice chirped in the background. “—Or even Tony or Rhodes, if they’ll go. Iron Man is scary if you haven’t actually met Tony. I shouldn’t miss this.”

“We know. We wouldn’t be asking unless we had no other choice,” Clint replied. “It’s not just that we someone intimidating; we need someone—“

“Someone what?”

He could almost hear Clint wincing on the other end; “Patriotic.”

* * *

 

The jet was making its way steadily to an ‘undisclosed location’ in the Middle East. Clint had shot his hands up apologetically when he told Steve and Steve could only roll his eyes.

A photo-op. What the Avengers really needed was Captain America bringing released prisoners back to safety, guiding them to the jet, and looking every bit the symbol people expected him to be. It was one of Pepper’s people who made the suggestion, though when she heard about the mission happening the day that Bucky was settling into Steve’s apartment, she was livid. But they were already halfway across the Atlantic at that point; Steve assured her it was alright and was glad he could help. Part of him was, but that did not mean a much larger part of him was not.

He kept checking his phone. Thor was helping Bucky make the move from the hospital to the tower literally right at this moment. After much deliberation they decided that both Thor and Bucky would be staying in Steve’s apartment. It was an _argument_ if Steve was being honest with himself. Mostly between him and Bucky, with Thor barely able to mediate. As Bucky’s mind grew clearer as he was weaned off of the painkillers, he was quicker to snap at Steve and pull away. And as Steve grew more comfortable with Bucky being alive and whole in front of him he was quick to snap back and try and stay close. They were angry with each other, though neither of them could say why and it left both of them reeling, growing more and more frustrated. _We never used to be like this._ Thor was unfortunately left in the middle of it, trying to keep them both calm but Steve knew it was wearing him down as well.

What it boiled down to was that Bucky did not want to be too close to Steve and Steve did not want Bucky out of his sight. Bucky was terrified of the night; he had snuck into the tower twice now in the dead of night. If he was already there now, not having to circumnavigate Tony’s security protocols, he reasoned he could easily make his way to Steve’s side as he slept; he could easily slit Steve’s throat. And the Winter Soldier would.

Thor was the solution; Thor could sleep either with Steve or with Bucky and would wake at any shift. Bucky and Steve both forgot that if anyone was to have enhanced senses comparable, if not better than theirs, it would be Thor. Steve knew it first hand; more than once in their time sharing a bed had Thor woken, hand out for Mjölnir before realizing no threat was there.

Both Steve and Bucky felt like shit keeping Thor between them; Steve knew Buck felt the same way whenever their eyes met. It was just another point of contention, but one they would not speak out loud when Thor could hear.

That Steve did not want Bucky to see him sleeping with Thor, and simultaneously felt a pang of something in his belly at the thought of Thor sleeping with Bucky was an issue he would address at another time. If ever.

No texts yet. Thor said he would keep in touch, but it had only been twenty minutes since they were supposed to leave. Steve could wait; he did not have much choice.

Steve sighed. “It’s this ‘undisclosed location’ garbage that makes bullshit happen in the first place, Barton.”

“We’re going to a ex-black site, man. A Hydra ex-black site, no less. That means bullshit has already happened.”

“Don’t worry so much, Stevie. We’re righting things now. That’s what matters,” Natasha said from the cockpit.

“Don’t call me ‘Stevie.’”

“I bet it feels good to get back in the suit, though, right?”

“Something like that.”

When he stepped onto the quinjet he put the shield down against the wall of the plane near the door and sat on one of the benches near the front. Even now if he looked over to the shield, sitting virtuously near the door, he felt a twinge of despondence. He chose to stare ahead out of the cockpit window as Natasha and Clint flew the plane. They were talking softly about something, but Steve could not make it out. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, watching the clouds and horizon pass them by. He checked his phone. No texts yet.

* * *

 

“Cap, I’m taking point on this. You’re here in a symbolic capacity, more than anything else. Like a parade float.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m Captain America. I got it.”

Natasha and Clint synced their watches and met each other’s eyes. Natasha spared a quick glance over to Steve who nodded back before he slammed the shield on the lock of the bunker door and they stormed in. He tossed the shield at a Hydra agent and dove into the fray.

He was about to go further into the base when he felt Natasha’s small hand on his arm. “Okay, you’re done; watch the entrance, help bring the prisoners to the jet when we bring them out.”

“And stand in the right spot for the camera, I know.”

“Steve, none of us like this—“

“It’s fine. It’s good for the team. Go get the prisoners out.”

“It’s not fine, it’s bullshit.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what I signed up for when I joined the army.” He scanned around the room, double checking that it was clear before turning back to her. “What do you think, am I selfie-ready?”

He scrunched his face up at her, and she winced with a groan “Yeah, sure. Picture perfect.” She patted him firmly on the shoulder and Clint tossed the shield back to him. He watched them both leave, silent and deadly as he hooked the shield onto his back. He could hear the hiss-puffs of their silencers sounding a few times down the hall before he was left alone at the entry of the bunker.

He looked around the entry once more. It felt like everything was in its place, and still something felt off. He closed his eyes and listened. If he focused he could still make out Clint and Natasha, honing in on their movements as they made their way further into the bunker. He turned his attentions back to the room. He heard the drip of a faucet far away, papers being rustled in the breeze whistling through a—

A hidden door.

Steve turned and walked to the side of the room, standing in front of a tall filing cabinet. There was air coming through here. Without thinking he pressed one of the drawers, and jumped back as the wall and cabinet slid forward, revealing a dark set of stairs.

“Hey guys,” Steve said into his earpiece.

“Little busy,” Clint grunted. There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh through the earpiece before Clint cut off the connection, presumably to go back into the fight. There were not supposed to be too many Hydra agents still here, but enough that they needed to send both Clint and Natasha. Steve felt utterly useless.

Steve stood at the entrance to the stairs. He bounced on his toes looking towards the door where Clint and Natasha left.

“Guys?” He asked again. Clint grunted once more, which Steve took to be acknowledgement. He could hear the sound of metal squeaking against metal as Clint or Natasha was, Steve assumed, opening a prison door. “I found a secret door with a secret set of stairs and I’m gonna go look around.”

“Oh my god, Cap, stay where you are!”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Cap!”

But Steve headed down anyway, pulling the shield back in front of him and grabbing a small flashlight from his utility belt. He reached the bottom and saw it was just another room, mostly storage, another filing cabinet, a desk with a broken computer, some boxes. He sighed and turned to head back up when he heard it—

A sniffle.

He spun around and froze, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from, tightening his grip on the shield. He took a tentative step towards the boxes, barely breathing. Then another step, and a third. He shone the flashlight behind the pile of boxes and jumped when he heard a small, high pitched scream.

There sat a small girl — _Middle Eastern_ , his brain sarcastically supplied, cursing the fact that no one had told him what country he was even in. A five year old girl from Bahrain would be different than one hailing from one of the countries in the U.A.E. right? He did not know nearly enough Arabic or Persian and _god, did she even speak_ either _of those?_ If she was Israeli maybe she spoke Yiddish; and he tried to remember the few phrases Bucky’s grandmother had said to him before remembering that, if anything, she would speak Hebrew or English first — and he lifted his hands up placatingly as she stared at him wide-eyed. She held a knife in front of her and Steve thought she looked a little too comfortable with it.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! It’s okay! It’s alright.”

“Steve, what the hell is going on?” Natasha’s voice shouted through his earpiece.

“I’ve got a kid here, little girl, scared to death.”

“Back away from her, slowly, we’re coming now.”

Steve did as he was told, hands still raised never taking his eyes off her.

Then the little girl started talking, rapidly—

“Stop, slow down, I don’t understand. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

But she did not stop; Steve was not even sure she was breathing between sentences as she screamed at him, voice growing shriller and more terrified. Steve put the shield down and kept his hands up, crouching down, desperate to seem less intimidating. Her grip on the knife grew ever tighter and Steve could just barely make out her knuckles turning white with the strain.

“Huh, that’s funny.”

Natasha stood at the base of the stairs, and both Steve and the little girl jerked around, flinching as she spoke. She lifted her gun and shot the girl.

“What the hell Natasha?!”

He turned expecting to see the little girl, dead, oozing blood from her throat, her head, her abdomen. Instead there was just a small dart sticking out from her thigh; she was merely knocked unconscious.

“Oh fuck.” He fell back onto his seat and pulled off his helmet, holding his head in his hands.

“Steve?”

“I thought you shot her. I thought—“ Natasha stared at him, face cold. “I know you wouldn’t— but I thought— oh, Christ.”

“She was Red Room, or an offshoot anyway. We can bring her to the right people, but it wouldn’t be safe to travel with her awake right now, especially with how terrified she is.”

“I thought the Red Room was gone after the KGB?”

“Steve, men have been stealing little girls and turning them into murderers since the dawn of time.”

He had no idea what to say to that. It had to be true, but that was terrifying. He stared at the little girl as she lay, her fingers still curled limply around the knife.

“How could you tell? That she was like that; Red Room?”

“She was speaking in Tajiki, it’s a Persian dialect; makes sense, we’re near Uzbekistan; just hop over Kazakhstan and you’re in Russia. And she was talking about your boyfriend.”

“What?”

“They’ve been telling ghost stories about ‘the American’ in places like this since even before I was trained, Stevie. James Barnes was the Red Room’s boogeyman; he eats bad little girls who don’t train hard enough. I remember going to sleep scared shitless that the man with the metal arm would break each of my fingers right off my hand and gnaw the flesh off the bones in front of my face. That’s what she was screaming about. She was saying ‘‘the American’ will eat my heart,’ ‘he will eat it in front of my eyes.’ She was panicking, so tranq-ing her seemed like the right thing to do.”

Steve swore under his breath, heart still hammering away in his chest.

“You good to head out with the prisoners?”

He rubbed his face. “Yeah, yeah I guess.”

“I don’t want to sound crass, but it’ll be a better shot if you’re holding her.”

He stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment before; “Fine, yeah; anything for the good of the Avengers’ Initiative PR cycle, right?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Let’s just get out of here, Natasha.” He slid over to the little girl and plucked the dart from her thigh and picked her up easily, she weighed so little — _You need to eat more Becca. I don’t care if there’s a food shortage, here just take some of mine, don’t argue. Your brother would kill me if I didn’t watch out for ya_ — and cradled her in his arms as they ascended the stairs once more, barely remembering to pick up his shield as he passed.

As he was walking into the jet he saw the flash of a camera from the landed helicopter nearby, and sighed now that the job was done. He handed the little girl off to a nurse once inside and walked towards the front of the jet where Natasha and Clint were booting up the flight controls.

“I don’t think I should be going on missions yet,” he confessed to them.

“Yeah, no shit,” Clint murmured. Natasha smacked him softly on the arm.

“No, I deserved that.”

Steve slumped down in a seat behind them, and pulled out his phone. Four messages from Thor;

**-Barnes is settled and asks me to convey that you possess ‘nice digs.’**

**-Jarvis has informed us of your estimate time of return, we will feast on pizza then. Or perhaps sooner.**

**-Barnes has eaten all the pizza, but using Jarvis I have acquired more for your return.**

The final message was a picture. Steve opened it and saw that Thor had taken a selfie with Bucky in their kitchen with a few boxes of pizza in the background. They were grinning into the camera; faces easy and bright. He almost laughed; they looked so happy. His heart did not feel quite so tight, quite so numb as he saved the photo to his phone.

* * *

 

He finally made it back to the tower, breaking off from Natasha and Clint in the elevator and all but stumbling into his apartment. He struggled to toe off his boots and set the shield down at the entryway. When he stepped into the living room, he saw Thor slumped down on the couch, resting his head on the cushion behind him. He stepped a bit closer and saw Bucky was on the couch too, curled up on his side using Thor’s thigh as a pillow, burying his face into Thor’s jacket, fast asleep. Thor waved his hand gently when he met Steve’s eye.

“You didn’t have to stay up for me,” Steve whispered.

“Nonsense,” Thor replied just as softly.

Steve nodded and held up a finger as he made a beeline for his room, changing into his sweatpants and a t-shirt from his uniform. Then he walked through the living room, patting Thor on the shoulder before going into the kitchen and seeing an entire large pizza just for him sitting on the counter. He took the whole box and sat on the other side of the couch next to Thor. Thor put a warm hand on the back of his neck, and Steve almost moaned at the contact. He leaned into Thor and ate his pizza quietly. Between his fourth and fifth slices, he looked over. Bucky had not even woken up.

“He has taken a pill to help him sleep,” Thor whispered as Steve leaned over to put the pizza box on the coffee table. “He can still wake, but with the pill and the effort of the move, I think he is out for the night. He pushes himself so hard.”

“Yeah, sounds right.”

“Does he get that from you, or you him?”

“I don’t even know anymore.” He sighed and examined the two men. “Should we put him in bed? You’re kinda stuck under him.”

“I do not mind.”

Steve, without thinking, reached out to run his hand through Bucky’s hair. When he realized what he was about to do, he pulled back with a jerk, not ever getting close enough to touch him. He thought of the heart-rate monitor and hated — _fucking hated_ — the idea of doing anything that would scare Bucky.

“It is alright, Steven. He will not wake.”

“I don’t—“

“Come, it is alright.”

Steve sighed and slid closer and slowly put his hand on Bucky’s head. He expected Bucky to snap, to pull back, to do something, but he was out cold. Steve relaxed into the touch with a sigh, and sank also closer into Thor who had a warm hand on Steve’s shoulder. Feeling Bucky’s warm hair under his hand was like having a string in his abdomen cut loose; he could breathe once more. He felt suddenly very tired. He was almost ready to fall asleep on Thor’s other thigh at this point, but pulled back and settled on Thor’s shoulder instead; that way he could still see Bucky curled into the couch on Thor’s other side.

“I liked the photo," he finally whispered.

“We both thought you would. You were missed.”

“I missed you guys too.”

 


	22. Chapter 22

 

“You need a bigger coffee maker if we’re all staying here,” Bucky said, glaring at the tiny machine as if mentally willing it to percolate faster, while Steve emptied the dishwasher nearby.

“Agreed,” Thor yawned from his perch on a stool at the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I know. Here.” Steve handed Bucky a clean mug straight from the dishwasher. “I’ll put in an order with Tony.” Bucky’s metal fingers brushed Steve’s and he flinched, dropping the mug. Bucky caught it, but barely.

Steve tried to laugh it off, “Sorry, must still be a little sleepy.”

The feel of the cold, metal fingers on his skin stayed with him though. He couldn’t shake it off. He put the rest of the dishes away quickly, and mumbled something about leaving his phone in the bathroom and all but ran from the kitchen, feeling both Bucky and Thor’s eyes on his back as he left the room.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

Steve lay in bed staring up at the ceiling.

“You are thinking so loud it will wake up Barnes in the next room,” Thor murmured.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered back.

“Sleep.” One of Thor’s massive arms flopped onto his chest, thick and warm. He haphazardly, comfortingly patted Steve without looking, still half asleep.

Steve rolled to his side, away from Thor, sliding out from under his arm, cold and tired and still unable to sleep. He stared ahead at the wall. He felt Thor shift up to look at him, before he lay back down and rolled away as well. Steve was not sure if he had wanted Thor to do that, or if he wanted Thor to pull him in and not let him go.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“Alright, all your vitals look good and you’re healing just fine,” said the doctor. “Actually better than fine. You’re healing almost at the same rate as Captain Rogers here.”

Bucky nodded, “Okay. That’s good.”

“It is. We think eventually you should be looking into upgrades to make your left arm lighter, if only to avoid back and muscle problems; your spine is under a lot of strain. But other than that physically things are looking good. You’re gonna be just fine.” Steve’s heart skipped a beat and he smiled wide at Bucky.

Bucky smiled back at him but it did not reach his eyes.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“God damn it Steve, go! Get out!”

“No. I’m staying here. You can’t just—“

“You don’t get it Steve. Fuck you, you don’t get it!”

“Well fuck you too, Bucky! Stop telling me—“

“GET OUT!”

“Steven, go. Visit Natasha and Clint. Please.”

The metal hand whirred softly into the silence. Steve clenched his jaw and finally left, making no noise until he was in the bathroom outside the Avengers conference room where he finally allowed himself a gasping, panicked sob.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“No, it was just my sister, Becca and me. And Steve of course. He was around every day, so we were practically brothers.”

“Your poor mom,” Steve laughed, passing Thor the large bowl of pasta. “Mrs. Barnes was a real saint of a woman. How she put up with us I’ll never know.”

“What about you Thor? What’s your family like?” Bucky asked. Thor and Steve both went very still. “Sorry— did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Thor said after a pause. “No, you did not know.”

“Loki was Thor’s brother, Buck. The one who led the attack on New York with the chitauri. Then he—” Steve could not say it. Thor stared at the glass in front of him, and did not meet either of their eyes. “He passed.”

“Oh. I didn’t think. I’m— it was in your file. I didn’t—“

“Please, Barnes. There is nothing to forgive. You did not know.”

“What was he like?” Bucky asked, very softly.

Thor looked up then, looking at Bucky, and then Steve. His expression softened. Steve imagined that he was used to people already having an opinion on Loki by now. No one asked him about the younger brother from his childhood.

“He was funny,” Thor said at last. Steve’s heart hurt just hearing the words.

“He always loved a good prank. He fought exceptionally well with knives; I could never be as agile as him, no matter how hard I trained, and I envied him that some days as I’m sure he envied my greater strength. And I always thought— he was skilled at the art of strategy; the long game. I was too impatient. In my youth I thought ‘When I am king of Asgard, Loki will be my tactician, my right hand. There will be no war we can lose if we’re together.’ I think he could have been good, had events transpired differently. Still pranking, laughing, teasing me mercilessly; but good. If he had a cause to be good for.” He sighed, looking down at his plate. “But we will never know.”

“You loved him a lot.” Bucky said more than asked. It gave Steve pause. Steve had a hard time thinking of Loki as anything other than the one who lead the attack on New York, but now—

“Of course. He was my brother.” Thor looked up once more. “I think he would have liked both of you very much, after he got to know you. If things were different.” He met Steve’s eye, and Steve felt a sharp pang of sadness shoot through him.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“Miss Potts,” Steve said walking through to the conference room.

“Hello Steve. Thank you, by the way, for doing that PR thing the other week. I know its tedious but it was very good for publicity, and we just can’t afford bad press right now.”

“Not a problem, happy to help.”

“So how are you? How’s Sargent Barnes?”

“We’re all just fine, ma’am.”

She hummed, examining him. Steve felt only slightly naked under her gaze. “And Thor? How’s he doing?”

Steve blinked, his night with Thor coming back in full detail; including running into Pepper Potts in the elevator as they went to his room to— _to fuck, Steve just say it._ He gaped a bit at her, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

“Thor’s good too, ma’am. It’s been a little rough moving from the hospital, but we’re all coping.”

“Well, big adjustments like this can be hard; scary even.”

Steve blinked once more. “I don’t think any of us are scared.”

She did not say anything for a moment, standing perfectly poised with her heels together. She commanded attention. “When I was fourteen, my girlfriends and I took the keys to my dad’s jeep and went on a joy-ride. We crashed. We were all fine, but we had to walk back home, and I was hours past my curfew and ooh! My daddy was yelling at me like I never heard before. And I was so upset because he was so angry with me.”

“Okay.”

“But he wasn’t angry with me, Steve. He was scared. That’s why we yell, why we snap. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Steve said dumbly.

“I’ll see you later. You take care of yourself, alright.”

“Yes ma’am.”

He watched her go, more confused than before.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

Steve shook Bucky’s shoulders, “Buck, come on, please say something. Bucky? Bucky, come on!”

“Jarvis, call the doctors,” Thor said to the ceiling. “Inform them.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Bucky! Come on, snap out of it!” _Please, don’t do this. Please be okay._

“Come away, Steven. Don’t shake him thus.” Warm hands pulled him back, and pushed Steve into the couch where he sat watching. Bucky wasn’t moving, just staring ahead out the window of the apartment, not seeing the skyline, pale and clammy. The only real sign he was not completely comatose — _completely dead_ — was that his hands were gripping the arms of his chair painfully tight, the knuckles of his flesh hand were bone white, the gears of his metal hand whirred into the silence of the room.

 _What happened?_ Steve ran his hands through his hair trying to figure out what brought this on, coming up blank, unable to think clearly. One moment he was fine, the next— Steve couldn’t breathe. He stared at unmoving Bucky and couldn’t see. 

Thor knelt by Bucky’s left side, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. He stayed close to Bucky while the doctors rushed in. They flashed lights in Bucky’s eye, and checked his blood pressure. They were about to inject him with something when Thor stopped them, demanding to know what it was before letting them continue — “ _Just a mild sedative to bring his heart rate down and maybe pull him out of this state.”_ — Thor nodded and he and Steve watched as the doctor pierced Bucky’s skin with the needle.

Minutes passed. Bucky’s body finally slumped down minutely in the chair, and he let out a shaky breath, looking around, lost and confused. Steve stood up, but paused. Bucky caught Thor’s eye first.

“Thor?”

“I am here. You left us for a while, but it is alright. You’re fine.”

“Did I hurt him?” Bucky asked. Steve bit his lip and his heart clenched. Bucky was terrified, his eyes wide, and it was Steve’s fault. He felt sick to his stomach. “Thor?”

“No,” Thor said at last. “No, he is fine. He is just there, see?” Thor looked over and Bucky followed his gaze to Steve.

“Hey Buck,” Steve tried softly.

Bucky nodded and bent forward, head in his hands. “Shit,” Steve heard him whisper. Thor put a hand on the back of Bucky’s neck and Steve watched Bucky lean heavily into the touch. “Thank you,” Bucky said, even more quietly. Steve wasn’t even meant to hear it.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“Shit, he’s fast,” said Clint.

“Part of that’s gotta be the arm, don’t you think?” Tony replied.

“Maybe,” Natasha said, voice low.

The team, minus Bruce, watched as Bucky worked. In front of him were seven different guns, of various sizes and makes, all from different countries, some old, some new. He was dismantling and reassembling each one while Jarvis timed him. It was almost hypnotic, the way he moved with the pieces in front of him. It was steady, deliberate, and fast. _Damned fast._ It was a machine, grim and whirring and well-oiled in a factory, not a man, doing this. Steve could barely breathe as he watched.

He moved further down the line of guns, one by one taking them apart and putting them back together.

He clicked the magazine of the last one in place.

“4 minutes and 27 seconds,” said Jarvis — _“Holy shit,_ ” whispered Clint.

Then Bucky was pointing the last gun at Steve.

Three things happened at once. Natasha pushed Steve out of the way violently, shoving him down brutally, bruisingly hard and landing on top of him. Thor jumped in front of Bucky and the gun. And Bucky pulled the trigger.

It clicked.

The gun was empty. If it hadn’t been, Thor would have a gaping, fatal wound in his stomach. Steve stared up from the ground at Bucky and Thor. Bucky’s hand was shaking and Thor — magnificent, patient Thor — gently laid a hand over his, and took the gun from him, setting it back on the table. Bucky panted, pale and sweating staring ahead.

“It’s alright, Barnes,” Thor said softly, putting his hand on his head. “It’s alright.”

Bucky closed his eyes and let out a soft sob, burying his face in his hands and shaking in his chair. Steve watched, helpless.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“Wow, these are good,” Steve said.

“They are,” Thor replied with a smile, wiping crumbs from his beard.

“Bucky, come over here and try these.” 

Bucky stepped into the kitchen and took a bite from the piece on Steve’s plate. “Wow,” he said. “What is that? It’s good.”

“They are called poptarts.”

All three of them were grinning at each other, fueled by sugar and something else. Steve felt warm.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“A fine view,” Thor said.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. And it was.

The three of them were sitting on the roof of the tower, higher up than even the landing pad, where only the maintenance workers ever really went. Steve thought he might come up here more often. The last time he was on the roof proper was when he and Thor first slept together, and even then they had not been this high. They were watching the sunset, at the suggestion of Bucky’s therapist — _“Something about finding beauty in the world again or some shit,”_ Bucky had said, making Steve laugh. The doctors monitoring Steve when he was first pulled from the ice said the same thing.

Thor, as usual was sitting between the two men, but leaned back on his hands, while Steve and Bucky leaned up against the railing. Steve wanted to sit next to Bucky, but Bucky adamantly refused. So Thor stayed between them, as much security blanket as companion. Steve told himself he was happy taking what he could get. Three sets of legs dangled off the edge of the building; a cool breeze ruffled their hair in the orange light.

A crinkle of plastic and the click of a lighter drew Steve’s attention from the sun. He turned and saw Bucky lighting a cigarette, orange flame reflecting off the metal hand along with the pink-yellow flame of the sunset. He took a drag and Steve was suddenly in France in ’43. He inhaled quickly, more gasp than breath, and Bucky turned looking chastised.

“Oh, um— do you mind? Clint gave me some when I mentioned I hadn’t done smoked in a while. I know it’s different now—”

Steve shook his head. “No, no. It’s fine.” He held out his hand and Bucky handed over the packet and lighter, and Steve pulled one out for himself.

“Should you be smoking?” Bucky asked.

“I used to smoke before, do you remember? For my asthma?” Bucky nodded, but Steve could see in his eyes that the memory was not a strong one. “Apparently they don’t help, by the way.”

Steve took a drag and blew the smoke out into the air. It felt real and unreal all at once. He could not remember the last time he had a cigarette, but it had been before he crashed the plane in the arctic. He did not miss them, exactly. He could not become addicted to the nicotine like normal people because of the serum, and did not really want to anyway. It wasn’t the act of it, but the memory of it; trading them with soldiers, getting them in the army rations. A different time.

“What are those?” Thor finally asked, after watching them curiously for a few moments.

“Cigarettes,” answered Steve. “You smoke them, kinda like a pipe I guess. But not exactly.”

“Weird ones though,” Bucky said. “They say they’re Lucky Strikes, but they taste different.”

“Everything tastes different nowadays,” said Steve, because it was kind of true.

“Darcy and Jane told me about these, but I had never actually seen one. They said such things could kill you.”

Steve grinned out into the evening. “Do you want to try one?”

Bucky glanced over at him, curious, smiling, a glint of mischief in his eye.

Thor regarded them, biting his lip for a moment before; “Alright.”

“Here,” Steve handed him a cigarette, and Thor put it in his mouth. Steve tried not to look at his lips. Steve flicked the lighter, and cupped the flame from the wind. “When the flame touches the cigarette you gotta suck in, _real_ deep, okay?”

Thor did as he was told and the moment the smoke hit his throat he started violently coughing, spitting out the cigarette. Bucky and Steve cackled and smacked him on the back as he coughed.

“That was mean, Stevie,” said Bucky, still giggling.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. “It was just too easy.”

“There is something very wrong with this realm if people do that for pleasure,” Thor wheezed. He shoved Steve lightly, shaking him by the shoulder. “There’s more cunning in you then you let on.”

“I think that’s Asgardian for ‘you’re too pretty to be that sharp,’” Bucky said.

Steve snorted and Thor laughed.

“This is kind of gross. They used to be better,” Bucky said after a moment.

“Yeah.”

They stubbed out their cigarettes, and started breathing plain fresh air once more. Steve sighed, lying back and looked up at the slowly darkening sky, hoping to see a star or two through the light pollution. He felt eyes on him and turned and looked over and saw Bucky and Thor both beaming at him, their hearts in their eyes. He smiled back, but felt a pressure he could not identify.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

“Thor, I should leave, you know? I can leave. If you two…” Bucky’s voice trailed off. Steve was in his bedroom, about to head out into the living room when he heard them. He paused at the door.

“If we what?” Thor asked.

“Need me to?” Bucky’s voice was uncertain, reluctant, sad. “He told me you two slept together. I mean, more then slept— you know. And I found you in bed before. I love him, but I won’t ruin what he has with you. You too. You’ve been a rock, Thor. I want you to be happy.”

“You are gracious, Barnes. But I admit Steven and I do not have much; enough so that it would be wrong of me to ask that of you. And I think— _I_ _know_ he would rather have you.” Steve felt a pang at that. He could not even find words for the emotion though.

“All the more reason for me to leave,” Bucky said. “Let things happen with you two. I’m dangerous. Let him get away from me. I’ll go. He shouldn’t be with someone who’s a hair trigger away from murdering him.”

“It is not that simple, Barnes.” Steve would have snorted if he was not keeping deadly quiet. That was rich coming from Thor.

“It is. I should leave.”

“He does not want that. You do not want that.” Thor paused for a moment. A long, heavy moment. “And I do not want that.”

It was very quiet then. Steve held his breath, certain it was the loudest thing in the apartment at that moment.

Then, finally; “Yeah?” Bucky asked softly.

Steve imagined Thor nodding beyond the door. He imagined Thor cupping Bucky’s neck in his large hand, warm, comforting. He imagined Bucky leaning into the touch. He imagined—

_Breathe._

* * *

 

It was movie night; the lights were off, the common room was warm. Natasha had pulled Steve down with her and Clint, while Thor and Bucky settled down across the room. Tony ran a running commentary, Clint kept feeding Steve pizza, practically shoving the pieces in his mouth for him. It almost felt normal.

Steve looked over at Thor and Bucky for a moment, and saw Bucky’s metal hand resting on Thor’s.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

Steve turned off the faucet in the shower, and pulled a towel off the door to dry off, wrapping it around his waist as he stepped out. He jumped when the door slammed open, and Bucky rushed in, just barely making it in time to vomit into the toilet. Steve swore under his breath, and knelt down to hold back Bucky’s hair as he violently puked. His whole body shook. Steve glanced up and saw Thor standing in the doorway. There was nothing else to do but wait it out.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said at last when he was finished, voice raw. “I’m sorry, I think it’s the new medication the doc gave me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. Don’t. We’re dealing. I’m here, Bucky. I’m here with you for anything.”

Bucky stared into his eyes. “Are you?”

Steve blinked.

_Breathe._

* * *

 

Steve stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, sipping a glass of orange juice.

THUD

“Stop! Bucky! What’re—“

Bucky had Steve pinned to the wall, clawing at his shirt. The glass was shattered beneath his feet and Steve was slipping on the juice puddled on the floor. Steve tried pushing him off, but his arms were pinned awkwardly. Thor was there a moment later, pulling Bucky back. Steve stared, shocked as Bucky fought against Thor’s arms, frantic, panicked.

“No, no, no! I have to see! I have to see!”

“What? What do you need to see, Barnes? Calm down and tell me.”

“He’s not real! I killed him!”

Steve’s stomach dropped. He swallowed and held up his hands. “It’s okay, I’m right here, Buck. Not dead.” He lifted the edge of his shirt. “Is this— is this what you want to see?”

Bucky nodded and Steve lifted his shirt. He put his finger next to the very light scar from where Bucky had stabbed him in the stomach. It was barely there now. The scar on his arm and the scar on his ribs were gone, but this last one was deep enough that it was still healing. Steve was almost used to it by now. Steve realized in an absent sort of way that it was almost where Bucky had shot him on the helicarrier. _How had he not realized that until now?_

Thor let go of Bucky and he stepped cautiously forward. His fingers — cold and metal, making Steve flinch barely grazed the scar— before he crashed to his knees at Steve’s feet. He pressed his face into Steve’s stomach and started sobbing in earnest.

“I killed you. I’m sorry. I killed you, I killed you, I killed you,” he said. “I can’t stop seeing it. I can’t stop. It hurts, I’m sorry. Oh god, I killed you.”

Steve could barely hear it. _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Buck, please stop crying, I’m sorry._ His blood pounded in his ears. His head fell back on the wall behind him as he tried to collect himself and failed, knowing he couldn’t see Bucky at his feet right now. He caught sight of Thor standing a few steps back, arms crossed in front of his chest, looking tired, looking sad. Steve couldn’t see that either. Steve closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe.

If this had happened just a few days later the scar might not still be there. _Then what?_

The sticky-sweet smell of the orange juice was almost overwhelming.

_Breathe._

 


	23. Chapter 23

_“Exposure therapy is a technique in behavior therapy intended to treat anxiety disorders. It involves the exposure of the patient to the feared object or context without any danger, in order to overcome their anxiety.”_

Steve had read that on his computer screen before Bucky came to the tower. It left him heavy and unsettled. He was sure it showed on his face wherever he went. He imagined weeks of sitting in a room with Bucky on one end and him on the other; never touching, never breathing each other’s air. Maybe, just maybe, they would slide closer to each other over the days and months. Maybe in a thousand years he could hold Bucky’s hand when he was not high on medications and painkillers. Or worse still, some nights when he could not sleep he would imagine the two of sitting across from each other, almost within reach, with five inch glass between them. Never touching. Never touching again.

Steve thought he would have rather had Bucky beating the tar outta him on the helicarrier for the rest of eternity than face that.

But things did not work out that way. Bucky’s move into the tower, and subsequently his interactions with Steve was not so much ‘exposure therapy’ but ‘trial by fire.’ Bucky was, more often than not, simply petrified; forced to be shaken out of a rigid statue by Thor as he succumbed to the fear of hurting Steve; even when Steve was not even in the room. There was a deep pit of subconscious knowledge in Bucky that _knew_ he would hurt Steve. It left Steve nervous; not of actually being hurt, but that the fear would be too much for Bucky and something would snap. Steve could see it in Bucky’s eyes during the day, in the way his shoulders tensed when Steve was ‘too close.’ Thor was flagging a little from it all as well. He was ever patient, inordinately kind, but there was worry in his face whenever he needed to stand between Bucky and Steve. Something as simple as a hand on the shoulder could be enough, but how long would he be doing it? All three of them thought that maybe things were getting better, Bucky could get almost close to Steve if it happened by accident, and Thor could calm him down more and more easily. Or were they just better at avoiding the problem? Were they just imagining progress? Treating the symptom?

“You’re going to have to do something a little more concrete,” Natasha chirped matter of fact-ly one day. “What you’ve got going on right now is not cutting it.”

“The doctors called it ‘flooding,’” Bucky had replied.“Just expose me to the thing in question until it’s there so much it doesn’t bother me. But even they said that wasn’t the right term either. It’s not like this is an entirely normal situation.”

“Yeah,” Steve murmured. “No kiddin’.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s not working well enough.” Natasha said with a shrug. “Let’s just try something else.

* * *

A few hours and a trip to Starbucks later, Bucky and Steve were standing in Steve’s apartment, about ten feet apart. Thor and Natasha were sitting nearby watching them, each with an iced drink in hand; Bucky and Steve’s coffees were sitting on the counter, untouched. Thor smiled at them, but Steve thought the god may have seemed just a bit more nervous than he wanted to let on. Steve tried to smile. Bucky did not even bother.

“Relax,” Natasha said between sips of her pink Starbucks drink. She pulled out her phone and sent a quick text. “You’re only tense because you’re actively focusing on this. You’ve gotten closer to Steve before.”

“No. I’m tense because I know about twenty-seven different ways to kill him from right here, I have programming embedded in my skull that wants him dead, and you’re asking me to step closer to him.”

“I’m in the same boat, honey-cakes,” Natasha chimed in. “I don’t let it bother me.”

“Only twenty-seven?” Steve asked, trying to grin.

“Steve, please,” Natasha chided.

“Sorry.”

“Besides he obviously knows more, he just doesn’t want to scare you.”

Steve snorted.

“This isn’t any different from you and Stevie sitting together in the hospital—“

“Don’t call me ‘Stevie.’”

“High on pain meds and held down with fortified handcuffs,” Bucky added.

“—nor different from the moments you have been close to him in these past few days and weeks, are they not?” Thor added.

“When he’s holding my hair back as I puke? Or when my brain fitzes off like the killing robot I am and he’s trying to shake me outta it?”

“—or hanging around with all of us in the common area,” Natasha said. “It’s easy.”

“Yeah, well, what’s easy is I got my very own six-foot-five, thousand pound walking wall that gets between me and Steve. Even better n’ handcuffs.”

“Worry not. I am still right here, Barnes,” Thor said. Then his brow furrowed. “Though, I do not know how to react to _that_ comparison. Surely you think more of me than mere handcuffs,”

“ _Surely_ ,” Bucky replied, grinning for the first time since they started. Steve’s stomach flipped, relief but also something unnameable mingling in his chest at the sight. “Sorry Thor.”

“It is quite alright.” Thor sucked on the straw of his drink — _“A venti chai iced latte, Steve. It is very satisfying.”_ — and watched as Bucky and Steve stood motionless facing each other. “It is just nerves.”Steve could not relate. He felt relatively calm. This was Bucky. This was fine. Logically, there was nothing to worry about. He could fight off Bucky if he had to, and Thor and Natasha could sedate him before any real harm befell anyone. Steve really hoped it would not come to that. He stayed loose and still; ready to be whatever Bucky needed him to be.

Steve watched Bucky screw his face in determination. They were still ten feet apart, and it felt all at once like a thousand miles and barely inches. Then Bucky took a step forward. Steve forced himself to breathe. Then Bucky took another step, and a third. Steve nodded, and in a few more moments, Bucky was in front of him. Not close enough, but closer then they had been; closer than they were when Thor was between them. Steve could just barely smell him. It was so familiar. It took everything in Steve’s power not to just step forward and pull Bucky in, clinging so hard he would never let go.

Bucky was breathing hard but not as heavily as he could have been. He had stuck his tongue out just a tiny bit from between his lips and Steve could not help but smirk; Bucky _used_ to do that. _Bucky still did that._ It felt like home. Steve just wanted to reach out and hold his face, kiss his lips, feel that tongue. Feel the stubble on his cheek, the warmth from his skin, the life thrumming inside of him. 

Bucky lifted his hand. It hovered a few inches in front of Steve. His fingers were shaking a little bit.

Steve lifted his hand as well, slowly putting it in front of Bucky’s, staying back the last few centimeters so Bucky could close the distance when he was ready.

They did not move. Minutes passed. Steve imagined if neither of them were enhanced the way they were their arms would grow tired. 

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve whispered finally. Barely exhaling the words; Natasha and Thor probably did not even hear them.

“It’s not.”

“It is,” said a third voice.

Steve had been staring at Bucky’s hand, so close, so damned close to his own that he had not noticed Thor stand up and walk towards them. Steve looked and saw Thor was standing behind Bucky; not close, not crowding, but with one thick hand resting lightly on Bucky, where his shoulder met his neck.

“It is alright, Barnes,” Thor said, softly. “Whatever fear you may have is mere haze. It keeps you from seeing what true in front of you.” _“This is the truth. Everything else is haze, and it is the haze that makes it hard to see ahead of you,”_ Thor said to Steve that night. “And what is in front of you is Steve.”

Bucky nodded. He still did not meet Steve’s eye. Steve took a breath and waited. Both Bucky and Thor were watching him now; he could feel the intensity of their stare on his skin. Then Bucky moved his hand just slightly closer to Steve’s.

They were finally touching. Steve felt a grin pull at his lips. Bucky’s hand was warm, so warm, against Steve’s, and it was all Steve could do not to wrap his fingers around Bucky’s and pull Bucky in and—

“Look at him, Barnes,” Thor whispered. “See how he smiles now.”

He met Bucky’s eye then. Hands still together, skin still warm, and now the two men were looking at right at him. Their eyes were so bright it almost hurt Steve’s to look. Bucky’s lip twitched and slowly, finally he smiled. Steve’s heart must have caught on fire at the sight of it.

Bucky took one breath, and then another and finally his body relaxed just infinitesimally. He leaned back into Thor, still keeping his hand on Steve’s.

“Thank you,” Bucky whispered.

“Thank me not; this is all your doing.”

Bucky leaned a little further into Thor, body relaxing, tension melting free of his skin. Steve felt that unnameable feeling once more; deep in the well of his stomach. His fingers were still warm on Bucky’s. Their fingers were still touching and all Steve wanted was more. But he also felt intrusive now; he was the problem that Thor and Bucky solved. More was not his to have.

The metal hand twitched at Bucky’s side. As if Bucky was going to bring it up to Steve’s hand.

Steve stepped back, letting his hand drop. “We don’t want to do too much,” Steve lied quickly, heart dropping at Thor and Bucky’s confused look. “We’ll try again later.”

“O-okay.” Bucky said softly. Steve did not want to look at his face. He could hear the hurt in Bucky’s voice. Steve turned and headed to the elevator with a final wave, running away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not turn out nearly as nice as it was in my head.


	24. Chapter 24

Steve sighed, wiping sweat off his brow as he stepped out of the elevator. He had been working out with Clint. He might have been grounded from missions but since he had made a full recovery from his injuries he insisted on at least staying in shape. He would spar with Natasha and Thor, and run through simulations with Tony’s machines; moving target robots and shifting, ever changing obstacle courses. He already had plans for when Sam moved in to go on runs with him, if only for old times’ sake.

It felt good. He had not gotten any sort of endorphin high in a while, but he was fine just feeling his muscles warm and loose after working out. Especially now that he was not going out on missions he had to do something to rid himself of the restless energy that settled in his bones.

That the exercises kept his mind from obsessively focusing on anything else, namely Thor and Bucky, was just a bonus. Clint had asked him why he was going to work out so much lately, and Steve flubbed some answer about getting back to peak condition. Clint looked skeptical but did not push it.

He did not want to run away from his situation; that was not exactly it. He was just _worried._ And antsy. There was something unexplainable under his skin that kept him from focusing, from breathing all the way. The light in Thor and Bucky’s eyes when they looked at him felt heavy; sharp and unwarranted, and it left Steve feeling like he could never live up to whatever it was they saw.  

So he ran away, punched a bag, shot some moving targets. That made sense.

The distraction was short lived however. His thoughts were immediately pulled back to Bucky and Thor the moment he stepped into the living room. It was hard not to focus on them; they were standing in the middle of the room, kissing.

“Shit!” Bucky pulled back from Thor and the two men stared at Steve. “Shit, Steve.”

Steve could not speak. His heart dropped. It was not the implication of the kiss, but the image of it, burned into his retinas. Like a bad dream.

 _“Laid on the bed, forgotten and forced to watch as we had our way with each other.”_ Isn’t that what Thor had joked about one night? When he would not have sex with Steve? 

He felt a total, consuming envy and a total mournful acceptance simultaneously. It made sense. It didn’t make sense. It made sense. It made absolute sense. His mind was screaming, and his heart was pounding around his ears, and he could only stare as the two of them stared back.

“Steve, you weren’t supposed to see that. We were— we were—“

“I-it’s fine.” Steve made his mouth move, made his lips form words, made his lungs breathe once more. “I um— I interrupted. I’ll go. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t, it is not—” Thor said. Steve’s stomach lurched in his abdomen as he stepped back, away from them. “We would speak with you—“

“Please, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” Steve turned around and started walking back to the elevator.

“We were waiting for you,” Bucky called out. “Steve wait, please. We were waiting for you, we got carried away. It was— we were going to talk to you— to ask you—”

_Ask me what?_

_Ask if this was okay,_ Steve’s brain supplied. _Ask if I minded._ Steve told himself he didn’t mind. That it was fine. He was lying. A very small voice in the deep well of his consciousness was laughing, cackling viciously that he was lying to himself. He’d been lying to everyone. He told Natasha and Thor and anyone who would ask that he was fine. _He was fine._ He said he was fine over and over and over. And now that he wasn’t fine he did not know any other way to respond. Steve only saw the two of them still kissing behind his eyelids, and it made sense, and he had to go, and they didn’t choose him, and he was fine, _he was fine, he was fine, hewasfine, fine, fine, it’s fine,  it’s fine, it’s fine, finefinefine…_

“I’m gonna— I have to—“

“Steven!” “Stevie!”

_No._

The elevator was open and he stumbled in and pressed the first button he saw. The door closed behind him before he dared turn around. He could not see them staring at him from his living room, though he felt their eyes boring holes into his back. He could not see them. He could not make it out of that. Steve lay in the ocean for seventy years, but he was not sure he could survive seeing Bucky and Thor look at him with that pity in their eyes.

* * *

He ended up in the small conference room they used for the Avengers meetings; empty now. Steve sent up a small prayer of thanks for that. What would he even do if he saw another human being right now? He could not even comprehend the possibility. He walked into the room, moving to his usual seat at the table, but upon gripping the leather chair until he almost tore it open, he opted not to sit at the table. The table was for mission briefs, and watching the others carry out ops, and planning reconnaissance.

He looked around, finally walking to the edge of the room and sitting on the floor in the corner where the window met the wall. He stared out and down the dozens of floors to the busy streets outside the tower, his forehead resting on the cold glass of the window.

He tried not to close his eyes. When he closed his eyes he saw Bucky and Thor kissing.

He did not even want to blink. _Don’t break,_ a tiny voice told him.

“Captain Rogers?” said Jarvis over his head, unprompted. “May I be of assistance, sir?”

“No, it’s fine, Jarvis.” _It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine,_ “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.” The AI paused. “I must notify you that Sargent Barnes has inquired as to your location. May I inform him?”

What would Bucky even do? Even say? How could Steve even respond? He clenched his jaw staring out the window, hands balled into fists on his knees. He did not want Bucky to talk to him. Could not pin down a concrete thought at all, save for the fact that if Bucky asked him for this — _Asked him to be with Thor? Asked him for what? permission? a blessing to pursue whatever it was they had?_ — Steve knew what he would say. Steve never could say no to Bucky. Even if it killed him. _And that was so damn_ — he clenched his fists once more.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell him actually.”

“Of course, sir.”

A moment passed. The cars below pooled, cohesive and slippery and brake-light red at the stop lights of the intersection before dripping further down the street; just colored water droplets from this high up.

“Captain Rogers?” said Jarvis over his head once more. Steve leaned his head back against the wall; permission enough for the AI to continue. “I must notify you that Thor Odinson has also inquired as to your location. May I inform him?”

What would Thor say? Steve imagined that he could yell at Thor for this. He could scream. Everything between them, everything that had been hovering at the back of his mind, at the electric edges of their skin would come to the fore. From way Thor looked at Steve when he thought Steve wouldn’t notice, to the way Thor had fucked him that night; left him trembling and almost weeping. The way his fingers were warm on Steve. Their scars, their mingled breath, their matched heartbeats. Their quiet. The way Thor kissed him. The way it felt when Thor smiled at him, like there was nothing wrong with Steve at all. Steve would scream. He screamed when he lost things that mattered before, people who mattered, though only when alone. Why should this be any different? In fact this was doubly painful. He would scream his throat raw.

“No, don’t tell him either, please,” Steve said.

“Yes sir.”

“Can you tell them not to look for me?”

“I will inform them of your wishes.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

“Of course, Captain Rogers.”

He tucked his knees in and stared back out the window once more. He let out a soft, wet sigh, looking at the clouds churning harmlessly on the horizon.

“Are they looking for me?” Steve asked after a moment, steadying his voice.

“They are, sir,” Jarvis replied. Steve almost smiled. It didn’t surprise him one bit.

“Can you— should I—“ he tried to form a question, tried to ask Jarvis for something, anything, but he could not even form the words as to what. But miraculously, Steve heard the lock on the conference room door click; keeping him in, keeping anyone else out. _Thank God for that. Thank Tony for that, really._

“Thank you Jarvis.”

“Of course, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST. DELICIOUS ANGST. I live for this shit, what is wrong with me?


	25. Chapter 25

To say that Steve avoided Thor and Bucky after seeing them kiss was an understatement.

Steve knew, deep down that it was immature, but he also knew he was not in his right mind at the moment, so he had an excuse for some immaturity, if not a justification. Clint could be quiet, Bucky too, and Natasha could hide herself so well she could be standing in front of you and you would not see her. But Steve?

Steve went invisible. Jarvis helped.

* * *

“Captain, Sargent Barnes is going to the common area via elevator three.”

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Steve would say grabbing his mug of coffee and leaving through the door to the service stairs.

* * *

 “Sir, Ms. Romanoff is en route to the gymnasium, estimated time of arrival; a minute and thirty-two seconds.”

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Steve would say. He would stop the punching bag from swinging, and unwrap his knuckles, tucking them into his sweatshirt. He’d pass by Natasha with a wave and keep walking. If she stopped him with a hand on his chest and a raised eyebrow, he’d shake his head and leave, back to the guest apartment level where he was hiding out. Never speaking a word.

* * *

 “Sir, Mr. Stark has requested your presence in Laboratory 2.”

“Is it an emergency?”

The AI did not respond right away. “I have been told to say ‘yes.’”

Steve sighed and made his way to the lab. The glass doors slid open and he walked up to Tony who sat facing away from him, staring a large screen with dozens of charts and projections.

“Avoiding someone?” Tony asked, not turning around.

“Nope, guess my schedule just fell outta sync with everyone else,” Steve lied easily. He practiced that one to himself just in case someone asked.

“You forget, Rogers,” Tony said, tapping on the projections.  “I’m a master screwup; I know what avoiding people looks like because I am pretty damned good at it. Be grateful you’re not at the angry, violently pushing away the people you love stage.” Steve did not reply, pretending to look at the screen, though it took everything in his power not to point out that he was not the screwup in this situation. At least he did not think he was. “I really don’t need to know what is going on, I just wanted to ask you about that mission we did for Hill a while back, with the orb, get some details I’ve missed.”

Steve blinked, thrown. “Uh, yeah sure, what about it?”

“You touched it right? The orb? Before you—“ Tony turned around and whistled, making a little falling motion with his hand as he got up from his chair and walked over to a table scattered with tools and more projected charts, and a few jars of bright pink paint “—you know, dive bombed out the window?” Steve nodded, following him. “Was it warm, cold, or neutral temperature?”

Steve thought about it for a moment; “A little warm, I think. Didn’t touch it for long. But not giving off heat maybe? The Hydra agent had been holding it in his hand, which might have been a factor. Why?”

“I didn’t actually get to see that orb before Hill’s people took it away.”

“Glowing red orb; does what it says on the box. Glows, is red.”

“And you’re sure red? Not say, Tesseract Blue, maybe, or orange, or green?”

“No it—“ he paused for a moment, picturing the orb in his mind. “Definitely red. It glowed the same way though— as the Tesseract. That sort of glowing from the inside and _into_ the inside sort of way, rather than just glowing out like a lightbulb.”

“Sort of like this?” Tony asked. He opened a box on the table, and turned it to face Steve. There inside was a glowing orb. The only difference was that this one was green.

Steve met Tony’s eyes, too tired to even try and be exasperated. “Yeah, Tony. Exactly like that.”

“I grabbed it when we did the op in Ohio. Clint found the box of a few of them, so I figured Hill and Fury wouldn’t miss one. It was mostly just curiosity. Didn’t tell anyone, you know, plausible deniability and so on— which means now you’re gonna get in trouble right along with me,” Steve rolled his eyes, “but I’m running some tests and just getting curiouser and curiouser, because these orbs are just kind of funny, and kinda everywhere,” He swept his hand over the table, and a world map popped up with dozens of blinking dots.

“Let me guess, these are sites with orbs?” Steve asked looking at the map. Most were in North America, a few in Europe, some in Russia, an unfortunate cluster spread in South America, one single dot in Australia.

“Look at you, smart and pretty. Yes. _Potential_ sites anyway. Or maybe just places where orbs have been and left a signature. Probably that; I don’t think there could be more than maybe ten without it pinging something or other. And I’m iffy about the one in Australia. I mean, they’re all just so nice down there. Hydra couldn’t even get a foothold! Imagine them sitting there eating toast with vegemite and getting yelled at by kookaburras! Anyway, might be mission-worthy, but there’s a lot of stuff to figure out.”

“So why tell me? I can’t go on missions.”

“Two reasons; First, because you’re still a part of this team. Our fearless leader, actually. Your opinion matters. And frankly a second pair of eyes looking at stuff would be helpful, especially if this is Hydra; your, you know, sworn enemy. If we decide to bring this to the others it would be good for it to be more than just me, and for us to figure out what we’re going to do, if anything. And, well, Bruciepoo is busy.”

“And the second reason? Or is Bruce being busy—”

“No, reason number two is like I said; I know a bit about avoiding people.” He met Steve’s eye. “And let me tell you, it is so much easier when you’ve got a project.”

Steve nodded. There it was. He could pretend there was nothing wrong right now; try and let Tony think as much. But he was tired. And having a task, a real task, was too good to pass up. He squared his shoulders, looking at the map once more. “Have you checked to see if any of these places with orbs corresponds to places with Colonel Rhodes’s and Fury’s reported Hydra activity? Not just what we’ve done ourselves?”

Tony grinned at him, and clapped him on the back. “You heard the man, Jarvis. Put it on the map.”

* * *

 “Captain Rogers, Dr. Banner asks if you would be interested in joining him and the others for pizza? He requests I mention it is ‘the good stuff’ from ‘that place you like on the corner.’”

Tony started packing up his stuff, but Steve stayed put, studying the information they had begun to glean about the orbs and Hydra over the last few days.

“No, probably not,” Steve replied. “Tell them I just ate, please.”

Tony sighed and reached into a cabinet and threw a thick energy bar at Steve’s head before walking from the lab with a soft “I’ll save you a slice.” Steve went back to the data looking for patterns.

“Thank you Jarvis.”

“Of course, sir.”

* * *

 “Captain Rogers?”

“Yes, Jarvis?”

“Thor Odinson has inquired as to your location. May I inform him?”

“No, thank you Jarvis.”

“Of course. Goodnight, sir. Sleep well."


	26. Chapter 26

Steve realized he had to go back to his apartment. He needed something from the file he kept on Hydra and the Winter Soldier for the work he was doing Tony. He cursed himself for not scanning it onto Jarvis’s servers before. _Before everything._ Steve had not been to his apartment for days, not since he stumbled in on Bucky and Thor. The first day he wondered if he would need to, but decided to go without, belongings be damned. He also did not know whether or not Bucky and Thor were still staying there. He considered that they might have gone back to Thor’s apartment. That would make sense; _less chance of being walked-in on,_ Steve thought to himself.

In any event he still did not want to go back to his own apartment. He did not want to risk seeing Bucky and Thor, but he also did not want to risk seeing his apartment itself. He was scared of the kitchen where Bucky died, the bedroom he shared with Thor all those nights, the living room where the two other men had— no, too much had happened. It was easier when all three of them were there before, but now the idea of walking in there alone was just as daunting as walking in there when Thor and Bucky were still there.

Steve chose to go at night. If they were there, they would be asleep, and if they were not, even better. He slipped into the elevator and pressed the familiar button. The ride was quiet and almost peaceful, if not for Steve’s anxious nerves. And when he finally stepped into his apartment, it was almost easy to quietly walk over to the desk by the window and pull out the file. It was dark, but the light in the kitchen was still on low, casting a dim glow into the rest of the apartment. Even through the thick windows, a little bit of the night sky’s air seeped through, chill and sharp. Steve could see some clouds above, and no stars; New York light pollution made the stars completely vanish tonight.

“Steven,” a low voice sighed behind him. Steve flinched and twisted around to see Thor, standing in front of the door to the bedroom, shirtless, holding Mjölnir in his hand. “I thought I heard—“ he shook his head and set the hammer down.

“I was just getting something,” Steve replied quickly. “I’ll go.”

“Don’t.” Thor strode over him, and Steve winced for two reasons; because his first instinct was to step back, and then because when he did, he jammed his hip into the corner of the desk. _Why did he step back?_ There was no place to go but through the window, so Steve was stuck as Thor stepped forward. “Let me see you,” he murmured. He put his hands on Steve’s shoulders, on his neck, on his face, bring his head up towards the meagre light from the kitchen. “Have you even slept all these days?”

Steve would not meet Thor’s eyes. Clenching his jaw he said; “Stop, just please let me go. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother?”

“I thought you wouldn’t be here, or you’d be asleep. I’m going, I’ll go, I’m sorry,” _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine._ “Just let go. Let go, Thor!” He tried to pull himself from Thor, frantic, but the god held firm. 

“What is the matter with you? Why would you not be with us?”

_What?_

“And what?” Steve gasped. “Spend the rest of my life hearing you fuck my best friend while I do what? Sleep in the guest room down the hall? Why in god’s name would I do that?”

Thor stared at him, brow furrowed, he did not speak for several moments. “You’re a damned fool. We are all damned fools,” he said at last.

Steve froze. “Excuse me?” his voice cracked and Steve hated himself for it.

“Come.” Thor took Steve’s hand and gently pulled him back, towards the bedroom. Steve followed, glancing towards the elevator as he passed, thinking maybe he should just make a run for it. His heart was in his feet as he stepped through into the bedroom. He saw Bucky sitting on the bed with his hands in his lap, waiting for them. Thor closed the door behind him, and Steve’s stomach lurched.

A realization hit him; he was scared. Scared of Bucky, of Thor, of them telling him that they did not want him, of them telling him anything at this point. His heart was pounding as he took a step into the room.

Now it was just Steve, Bucky and Thor, alone in Steve’s bedroom.

Bucky rose from the bed, “Hey.” _Hey,_ how many times had they said that to each other? What did it even mean now?

He stepped forward towards Steve. It was so slow, so cautious and it felt so sudden. There was Bucky standing in front of Steve, inches away. Thor stepped around and behind Bucky; he placed one hand on Bucky’s shoulder, the other he put on Bucky’s waist. Bucky leaned back against Thor’s chest, looking at Steve with lidded eyes, biting his lip, uncertain and entirely certain. Steve gaped at the sight. His hands fell to his sides and the file slipped through his fingers, pages fluttering to his feet. They were so close. 

“What are you doing?” Steve said, no, whispered. He could barely breathe.

“We missed you.” Bucky reached for Steve’s hand and pulled him in. He did not even hesitate. He just took Steve’s hands like it was the easiest thing in the world. Maybe it was now that he didn’t—

Thor and Steve might have been sandwiching Bucky, but Steve felt like the one who was trapped. Bucky put his right hand on Steve’s chest and put his left hand on Steve’s neck. Steve tried not to flinch at the cold bite of the metal on his skin. He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breath steady and turned his head away. He could feel Thor and Bucky’s eyes on him.

“W-we talked about it,” Bucky whispered. “We were going to talk to you about it when you— I can’t be with you. Not by myself. There’s something about you. My brain can’t work around it. I’m trying but— I can’t risk that. I can’t risk you. You’re too important. To me. To everyone.” Steve tried not to scoff at that, but his breath just hitched in his throat. “But Thor can stop me. Thor would stop me if— if the worst should happen. And god! do you know what it did to me? hearing he would be there just in case? It meant it was over. I could finish what I started and come back. Come back to you. Because he loves you and would protect you with his life. And that made me love him.”

_And that made me love him…_

Steve’s eyes were burning under his eyelids. He bit his lip. This was it. _Please don’t._

“And that meant I could love you. I could try. We could try. To be together.”

_Wait, what?_ He opened his eyes for a flash of a second to look at them, utterly bewildered. The sight of them was too much; he rolled his eyes back towards the ceiling before shutting them again. It was too much.

“We would care for you, Steven. Both of us.” Thor stepped around Bucky and ran a knuckle down Steve’s face. “We would have you with us. Would you have us?”

_What?_

The two of the gently pushed him back a few steps until he was pinned against the wall. He was too confused to resist. They pressed into him now. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter. He felt Bucky’s lips ghost at the side of his jaw. He felt Thor’s lips ghost along his hairline. He felt hands on his stomach and chest. He felt their breath on his skin. He felt hot; they were both burning through his clothes and his skin with their body heat and he was surrounded by it. He was choking on it. _I’m sorry, I don’t—_

“We thought you knew,” Thor continued, breathing the words into his skin. “I thought you knew and were scared. But you did not know. What a hurt we must have caused you. I’m so sorry.”

Steve’s eyes were still closed. His hands shook at his sides. It didn’t make sense, _this doesn’t make sense._

“Stevie?”

Bucky moved Steve’s head with his hand, fingers loose and easy, and pressed his lips to Steve’s. It was the first time they kissed since Bucky had made his way to Steve’s kitchen to die weeks ago. Steve gasped in response and Bucky claimed his mouth, exploring with his tongue, smiling against Steve’s face, pressing flush against Steve with his body. It felt like fire. Thor’s hand ran through Steve’s hair, and his mouth made its way to Steve’s earlobe with a content sigh. The sensation of the two men sent a jolt of something down Steve’s body, leaving his knees weak.

Steve did not kiss back.

Thor stopped and Steve thought perhaps he had something to do with Bucky stopping too.

“Steve?” Thor whispered.

Steve’s eyes were still closed. He could feel the blush on his face, hot and red, and he could feel the heat from Bucky and Thor near his skin, still so close, so damn close. He felt their eyes on his face, and that was somehow worse.

“Stop,” Steve finally whispered back. “Please stop.”

“Christ, Steve, you’re shaking,” Bucky said.

_Am I?_

“I can’t— I don’t— I don’t understand,” Steve finally managed to say. _It doesn’t make sense, this doesn’t make sense. I don’t understand._

“Hey, open your eyes. It’s alright.” _No, it’s not. It doesn’t make sense. Why would they—_

A hand on his arm, at his waist. “Come on, sit down, let’s get you to the bed.”

“No!” Steve pulled back then, pushing himself into the wall and away from the hands. “Shit. Stop!” He could not even think about sitting on the bed. That was too much, and he almost moaned at the thought of it. On the bed with Thor, with Bucky, with everything; it punched the wind out of him.

Steve finally opened his eyes and looked at the two men, breaths coming heavy and deep and rattling his lungs. He licked his lips — _that’s what Bucky tasted like; without blood and fear mixed in_ — and reached out behind him for the doorknob. He found it, and held onto it like a lifeline.

“Steven wait,” Thor held up his hands. Bucky tried to step forward, but Thor put his arm up between him and Steve. A shield. Steve thought he could handle this if he had his own shield. If he could hide. “We have been too hasty with you.”

“Steve we just want to be with you. Both of us with you.”

“That doesn’t—“ _make sense at all. Why?_ “I can’t be here.” He jiggled the doorknob, struggling to open it from behind his back.

“Can we speak of this tomorrow? I would know your fears,” Thor said. “I thought we—“

Steve found himself nodding with a quick “ _Yeah, okay, fine,”_ before finally opening the door and running out. He was at the elevator and slammed his hand on the button, and cursed every second he had to wait and cursed himself for being so scared. When he was finally in, and going back to the guest apartments, he let himself breathe once more. His chest felt worse than when he had asthma before the serum, and his heart was thudding loud and hard against his ribs, and he wanted to scream but he did not know what he would say if he allowed himself that release.

Steve walked to the guest bedroom, and leaned back against the wall, feeling numb, feeling everything.

He blinked. His hands were empty. He had left the file he had gone for in the first place on the floor of his room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another one of those chapters where you can pinpoint almost the exact moment I could have just turned it into porn, but didn't. Don't trip, I'm literally screaming to the effing heavens about it too. What is wrong with me?


	27. Chapter 27

The following day started out with a meeting in the conference room, early in the morning as Pepper was the one who arranged it and had an actual business to run. She had brought them gourmet coffee and bagels, blessed saint that she was, to help them slog through some new PR guidelines she had to set up for the team. Steve ate three bagels, but technically four as both Natasha and Bruce slid over their half eaten bagels for him to finish, which he did easily. Bucky and Thor were there, along with Colonel Rhodes. Steve nodded at them, but said nothing when he had first arrived, sitting in his usual chair. _Nothing was wrong, everything’s fine._

“So if you are out doing _anything_ in your Avengers uniform or not, remember you are representing the Avengers as a team, and your opinion is a reflection on the team, and more importantly _your actions_ are a reflection on the team,” Pepper finished, shooting a look over at Clint, Tony and Colonel Rhodes, who sat in a row looking thoroughly chastised. “No more stunts. Period.”

“Wait,” Steve asked. “I’m sorry, did something happen?”

“To say that would be a gross overstatement,” said Tony, hiding behind his coffee cup.

“No it certainly would not, Tony,” Pepper said. “‘Something happened’ is a complete understatement in fact, and you of all people should know better. All three of you really should just know better.”

“It wasn’t that big of a—“

“James Rupert Rhodes, are you really going to try and finish that sentence?”“No ma’am.”

“Those guys were wrong though!” Clint said. “You can’t protest a soldier’s funeral for shit’s sake!”

“Yes, of course they were wrong! They are from a church that not even the KKK will associate with! Everyone knows they’re wrong, it’s nothing new. If you had each issued a statement either individually or from the Avengers team officially, that would have been an appropriate response. If you had paid respects to the family that would have been an appropriate response. What you three did was not an appropriate response.”

“What did you guys do?” Steve asked slowly, not quite sure he wanted to hear the answer. He’d been so distracted he did not even know when they could have left to do something, let alone what they could have done.

“Jarvis?” Pepper said. “Show him, please.”

Above the table Jarvis started running a recorded news story. A reporter spoke over a video of a small crew of picketers. _“Members of the WBC today were picketing the funeral of recently deceased Lieutenant Moore when they were interrupted by none other than Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit, Air Force Liaison Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes in War Machine and a third unknown party wearing an alternate suit.”_

“How come they didn’t know who you were?” Bucky asked.

“I’m a spy. They don’t need to know,” Clint replied.

_“At first it was believed that the three would be merely standing between the picketers and the funeral proceedings, but what happened next was entirely unexpected.”_

Steve watched the shaky cell phone footage of Tony, Colonel Rhodes and Clint landing in front of the picketers — Clint obviously less used to flying the machine than the others, wobbling as he made his way to the grass floor of the graveyard — and forming a barricade.

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Steve said.

Pepper shot him an exhausted look, and Steve went quiet.

On the video, all at once, three sets of guns popped out from each of the suits. _Oh no,_ Steve thought. He put his hand on his mouth as he watched the picketers get antsy on the screen.

 _“You should leave,”_ Tony’s voice sounded through the suit.

 _“We’re allowed to protest!”_ replied a picketer.

_“Wrong answer.”_

The suits beeped once, twice, three times when suddenly, _SPLAT_. It was hard to tell what had happened at first as the camera phone was shaking, whoever holding it was cackling as they focused back on the picketers. Steve saw they were covered in bright pink, gooey paint.

“Thank you Jarvis, that’s enough,” Pepper said. “So, Steve, that’s what happened. Obviously a completely inappropriate response. I’m sure if you had known you would have stopped them.”

“Only to hitch a ride and join in,” Steve said before he could stop himself. In his defense, he had not really slept the night before and his filters were off, and he paled in Pepper’s stare. “Sorry, that was—“

Bucky snorted. Then Natasha started giggling. Then Clint and Bruce joined in, and soon the rest of them. Even Pepper had trouble keeping a straight face. Soon the room was filled with the entire team laughing at the frozen image of the picketers covered in paint. It was a cathartic, almost manic sort of laughter. It was too early in the morning, and the coffee had not yet kicked in and suddenly a group of superheroes was reduced to wheezing in the conference room at the sheer absurdity of it, all fit to bust a gut.

“You should’ve seen their faces!” Rhodes said.

“I’m sure Jarvis can go back through the suit database and get a picture off the HUD!”

“Oh my god, that can’t be real!”

They finally settled back down, and Pepper, her work finished, made her way out the door with a sigh, patting Steve on the shoulder as she left.

“Any other business to attend to?” Tony finally asked, wiping his eyes. He shot Steve a quick glance, a small shake of the head and Steve gave him a tiny nod in return. They weren’t ready to talk about the work they were doing with the orb yet. They would not bring it up.

“Sam Wilson, he’ll be here by next week,” Natasha said.

“Yay,” Clint, Bruce and Tony all said, before breaking out into giggles once more.

“And Clint and I are going to be running through some more simulations and tests with Sargent Barnes over the next few days.”

Steve stiffened at that and finally met Bucky’s eyes across the table. “Why?”

“To get a gauge of his skills,” Natasha said. “See how he can contribute. Do the official interview about his time as—“

“Yeah, okay, fine.” Steve raised his hands and the subject dropped.

“If that’s it, let’s break. I want to go back to bed,” Tony said.

“You weren’t in bed when I brought you up here,” Bruce replied.

“Psh. Details.”

* * *

 They stood up and gathered up their trash and threw it out as they walked by. Thor caught Steve’s eye, and Steve realized that for a moment he had forgotten that he was going to be talking with Thor and Bucky about everything. Bucky had already walked over to the elevator to wait; his fingers twitched at his side. Steve almost smiled, shaking his head. Bucky used to do that when he was nervous as a kid; after his mom had scolded him about sticking out his tongue. It was so familiar.

“Can I meet you down back at the apartment? I have to grab something.” Steve asked quietly. He was lying, he had nothing to grab, but he needed time to collect himself.

“Of course. Would you—“ Thor’s brow furrowed as he thought. “Would you like more coffee when you arrive?”

It was an innocuous enough question, but to Steve it felt weighted with expectation. “Only if you guys are having some,” he finally chose to answer. It was awkward. This was awkward. Thor nodded and he followed Bucky and headed into the elevator with Clint and Natasha. Bruce, Tony, Colonel Rhodes and Steve stood back and waved them off, waiting for the next one. Thankfully they all got off before him, and he could ride down to the guest apartments without any questions. When he was there he stood in the middle of the floor for a moment, lost.

He had not slept the night before. Not after what had happened. He stayed up thinking about Thor and Bucky’s hands on his body, and their mouths on his skin and lips. Part of him wondered why he asked them to stop. It felt— he could not describe how it had felt. But in the end he had a chance to be with them and he panicked.

He made his way back to his own apartment. The door of the elevator opened and he stepped into the living room, trying to smile at Bucky and Thor and knowing too late that it probably looked more like a grimace.

Thor gestured to one of the chairs and Steve sat down.

And no one said anything.

Steve stared at his hands in his lap finally mustering up the courage to say; “So…”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied.

“I—“

“We shouldn’t’ve—“

“It was foolish—“ added Thor.

They all stopped talking once more, sitting in silence.

“You understand what we are asking of you? Now?” Thor asked at last. “We did not mean to have you believe you were not wanted.”

“The opposite, really,” Bucky added. Steve let out a small breath at that. It did not sit right with him.

“Could you just lay it all out now? I was a little distracted when you told me last night.”

“Me and Thor both like you,” Bucky said. Steve stared at the coffee mug on the table, an uncomfortable feeling flaring up in the back of his mind that he could not label “And we like each other. And we want all three of us to be together.”

_When you put it like that it sounds so simple._

Steve huffed out a breath. “I don’t—“ He did not know how to speak anymore. Thor and Bucky looked at him expectantly. “It doesn’t make sense,” he finally said.

“It is not usual, to be sure, but none of us are,” Thor said. “We would see you happy, Steven. We would ease your burdens.”

“That’s not—“ he looked away from them. What Thor said made him angry, and he was not sure why. He did not even know what he was really confused and angry about that. “How would we even do this? Take turns or something? Rotate shifts where each night a different person slept alone? That seems awful.”

“What makes you think that? Why wouldn’t we all just be together at the same time?” Bucky asked.

Steve knew that his eyes probably bulged comically wide at that, and he looked down at his untouched mug of coffee once more. “That’s— um—“

“Are such unions uncommon on Midgard?” Thor asked. “They happen on Asgard occasionally, but not here?”

“No, they happen here,” Bucky said. “Stevie, look, it’ll be fine. If it’s the three person thing, let me tell you it’s even better than with just two people.”

_Holy god._

“We would not do more than you wanted, Steven. But you’ll enjoy it. I know you will.”

“Look, Steve, this is just us. Just the three us together. Like we’ve been. Sitting eating poptarts, or watching movies. Touching hands. This is just the next step.”

“I feel like might be a few more steps, honestly,” Steve said, voice low.

“What say you?” Thor asked.

“Can I think about it?” Steve replied. “I don’t— it’s— it’s a lot.”

Both Thor and Bucky slumped a little in their seats, and Steve felt a pang of guilt. He should just say yes, that’s what they wanted. Hell, part of him wanted it. He should be what they wanted. And for a moment he thought he could let himself do it. It could be so easy. It had been easy before. He said yes to Thor that night, he said yes to Bucky when he broke into his apartment and— Steve forced himself not to think of Bucky stabbing him, that was not a good example. But saying yes now just felt like a step that could not be untaken. There was no going back from this if he said yes. And saying yes felt like opening up a wound, though he could not say why.

* * *

 They all jumped when Thor’s phone started beeping loudly at them from the coffee table, little red cape flapping around as it vibrated across the glass. Thor picked it up and read the screen, standing.

“The call to assemble,” he said. “Emergency in Central Park.” Steve almost stood up, Bucky as well, before they both remembered that they were not actually invited to this. A small thrill went through Steve, both hope and dread when he realized that Bucky might want to help. _Just like old times; just like when he died._ Thor stood, “I must leave.”

“Are we finished here?” Bucky asked. “You’re going to think about it?”

“Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

“You should come back here though,” Thor said. “It is your apartment. Barnes and I can leave.”

“No, you can stay. Are you two already…” he bit his lip. “You know?”

“We sleep only, for the most part” Thor responded. “We have not done too much else. More than you and I have been doing as of late, but less than—” _that night._ Steve nodded.

“I’ll sleep in the guest room then. You two can still…”

“You can join us. We would not do anything you did not desire.”

“No, I know you wouldn’t. I just need to think about it without… _that._ ”

“Of course.”

“Come on,” Steve stood and started walking towards the elevator. “We’ll see you off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My only balm in this cruel world is the idea that Tony, Clint and Rhodes are in a constant state of pulling angst-free pranks in the background of everything I write.


	28. Chapter 28

“We’ll meet you in the conference room in a minute, Bruce.” Steve said as he, Bruce and Bucky stood on the landing pad watching the others leave to go to Central Park.

“Sure thing.”

And with a whoosh of the elevator, the two of them were alone. Bucky was clearly uncomfortable with that, itching to move away from Steve. There was no Thor this time, Steve mused. The stakes were that much higher when Steve grabbed Bucky by the wrist. “Bucky, are you alright?”

“No, you gotta let go. I should go.”

But Steve held firm. “You’re not gonna hurt me. It’s fine. Just— ugh—“ Steve tried to find the words he wanted to say and finally just settled with “Are you alright?” _Are you eating enough? Are the meds working? Are you and Thor doing okay together? Are you alright? I need you to be alright._

Bucky huffed out a short laugh. “That’s so fucking like you, Steve. You’re the one who’s gone through hell, and you’re asking if I’m alright.”

“We’ve both been through hell. You more than me.”

“You can’t put it like that. You can’t put numbers, or mores or lesses on stuff like that. I had X more years of shit to deal with than you. We both have been fucked over.”

“But you have been through more shit, Buck.” _And I was fucking sleeping the whole time._

“And that’s why I have therapists, doctors. You oughta look into it.”

“Yeah, sure.” They fell quiet. Steve still held Bucky’s wrist in his hand, taking a moment just to appreciate the warm, alive skin, that thrummed under his fingers. He met Bucky’s eyes, and very slowly brought his hand up to Bucky’s face. Some days he still was not sure Bucky was even real. This was the first time they had been alone. He could not hold still while Bucky touched him when he was ready, not this time.

“What the hell happened to us?” Steve asked.

Bucky reached up and took Steve’s hand with his metal one, and Steve flinched but barely. Bucky did not notice. He took a deep, shuddering breath and pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes as if it was hurting him. “We died.”

Steve’s eyes slipped closed as well. “It might’ve been easier if we actually h—“

“ _Don’t_ — don’t talk like that. Please.”

“Sorry.” Steve took a breath, inhaling Bucky’s scent. “I’ve missed you, Buck. I’ve missed you so goddamned much.”

“Stevie…”

Bucky pressed his lips against Steve’s. Steve sighed into him and kissed back. How long had he wanted just this? Just kissing Bucky like it was what he was meant to do? His mind flashed; trips to Coney Island and the beach, walking through the mud in occupied France, goofing off at the dance hall. Steve remembered wanting to desperately kiss Bucky when he left to ship out for the war. That was the last time either of them had been completely themselves. Steve gasped at the revelation, and made the kiss deeper, pushing Bucky back into the wall behind him. It was fire-hot, flickering against his skin. It was different than kissing Thor, and part of Steve wanted to do that too. That thought had Steve grinding his hips against Bucky’s, and Bucky gripped at Steve’s hip hard enough to bruise.

It was a powerful thrum inside him; _want, want, want._ Wanting Bucky, wanting Thor. He could wrap his head around those concepts individually, but put them together—

 

Bucky pushed Steve back with a gasp. “Shit, don’t, I’m gonna—“

Steve took a step back and tensed. Bucky closed his eyes, hand gripping the doorframe on the wall next to him painfully tight; the gears in the metal whirred and strained. But other than that things seemed fine. His eyes were still clear, he was still here.

“Buck?”

“We should wait,” he said, voice rough.

“What are we waiting for?”

“Thor. I can’t be alone with you, Steve. It’s too—“

“If you can’t be alone with me now what makes you think this plan of yours is going to work?” Steve asked, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

“It works _because_ Thor is there. Thor can stop me. Thor won’t let anything happen to you. You get that, right?”

“I get it, but—“ Steve shook his head. “Thor can’t always be there. He isn’t here now.” Saying that out loud left Steve feeling diluted and upset. “You were fine just now. You’re not the Winter Soldier now. Not trying to kill me.”

“It’s not _just_ me trying to kill you, it’s you letting me.”

Steve blinked. He let out a slow breath and turned to look towards the landing pad at the morning sky outside. “That’s not— I won’t do that again.”

“Yeah, you better fucking not,” Bucky snapped back. He leaned his head back against the wall, looking away from Steve, eyes dark and lidded. “But the thing is, I don’t know if you can. Just now you were letting yourself go. I was almost relieved last night when you made us stop. I thought ‘this jerk finally got some sense.’ So what am I supposed to think? I know you won’t stop me, you won’t say no to me. I know because if you even feel for me half of what I feel for you you know I could never say no to you, so you ain’t gonna be saying no to me. And I’m scared I’m inches, Steve, just _inches_ away from snapping and killing you, and you don’t care!”

“I care! You can’t just—“

“Can’t what?”

“Don’t put this all on me! I messed up one time because I thought it would help you. I wasn’t in my right head, but that’s it.”

“One time? Try three, jackass.”

“Three? What the hell are you talking about?”

“When I stabbed you, then on the helicarrier, and the plane. Three times! You’ve been letting me kill you since 1945! And I can’t do that again.”

“What?”

“You said it yourself! In the med-bay. You crashed the plane because I died. You did that because of me!”

“Because you did die, Bucky! I loved you, and you left me, you fucking left me!”

“I know! I didn’t do it on—” Bucky screamed.

“I hated you for it!” Steve screamed back. Even as he was yelling the revelation shocked him. He loved Bucky, but that anger he had felt was the strongest of the dozens of writhing, poisonous emotions that had coursed through him when Bucky had fallen, when he sat in the bar unable to get drunk. He loved Bucky so damned much, and that hurt more than the anger did. “God damn it, I hated you so much then! And I hated myself for hating you! You died and I had to watch, and then you came back and died again in my damn kitchen! And I had to watch, completely helpless, again!”

“As if I don’t know what that feels like! I’ve been watching you die and come back since we were kids! Those were the first fucking memories to come back in my head after I stopped getting wiped. And guess what, they’re the only ones with fucking emotions anymore. I wake up screaming because it’d be you dead in an alley in Brooklyn, dead at the base at Azzano, dead on your bed with pneumonia, dead with a bullet through your head or neck in Germany, dead on the helicarrier, dead next to the fucking Potomac, because I couldn’t reach you in time! You keep dying! I didn’t understand, and Bucky was screaming in my head. He was screaming just now when you kissed me.”

Steve started, a sharp inhale in his lungs. Bucky had not been referring to himself as a separate person for weeks now. Steve had thought, had hoped, that maybe they had put that behind them. That the medications were working or his brain was healing.

“You hated me?” Bucky continued. “Because I died? You don’t know the first fucking thing about hate! I love you. But I hated you every time you died, and it kept bubbling up because every time you died I felt it sharper and sharper! I can’t stop feeling it, and it’s killing me some days! There’s nothing in my head but screaming, Bucky screaming, and it’s because of you! You’d think it’d be because of fucking Hydra and the fucking Red Room, but it’s not, it’s all about you! It’s always been you, Steve, fucking you! That’s how they broke me; that’s how I breathe!”

Steve stepped back. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see clearly, his eyes stung and Bucky blurred in front of him. The room grew quiet. Steve ran his hands through his hair and shut his eyes.He stared at the ceiling, at the spare quinjet in the corner, at the walls, at the floor. Anywhere but at—

“I don’t want you to die,” Bucky said, voice finally softer. Steve thought that was worse somehow. “But I’m not stupid. I’ve been through more than you could ever understand. You’ll die one day. And I’ll have nightmares about it until I die someday. They spent seventy years trying to keep you from me, and you were still in my nightmares. I didn’t know who you were but I’d see your corpse in my dreams.”

“Bucky—”

“I’m terrified, Stevie. I’m not thinking straight. That’s why I practically jumped you last night. That’s why I latched onto Thor like a fucking lamprey when he gave me the chance. Because I finally have a chance to see you. It’s just, I see all the old memories but they’re jumbled and confused. I have them, but they don’t make sense sometimes and they turn bad, _God,_ the memories turn so bad, Stevie and I can’t control it. And all I want is things to make sense with you. Like it used to. I can make memories like you like I’m supposed to now. Like we’re supposed to. I’m becoming human again, and I want to do that with you.”

Steve could not speak. He finally turned and stared at Bucky, who was still pressed back against the wall. His face was wet with tears but his voice was steady. “I know you still have to think it through. That’s fine, I just— you had to know. I had to tell you. That’s the fucked up place where I’m coming from with this. God, you know, it’s funny; that Smithsonian exhibit, you know what it said? What it said about me? It said I was _notoriously levelheaded._ Was I? Did I lose that because of Hydra? Or because of you? I’m trying to get that back, and I can function, but then I see your face and it all goes right out the window. Levelheaded my ass.”

Steve nodded. “I know how you feel,” he said quietly.

Bucky nodded back. “I’m going back down to the apartment. You should go check on the others with Bruce.”

“Bucky—“

“We’re fucked up, Steve. And Thor’s more fucked up than I think he lets on, so he’s stuck with us ‘cause I won’t leave him alone. And I’m tired of dying. Dying without living. And being with you is living. Being with Thor is living. I want you to live too. You both. I know you can’t say no to me, but there’s no way I could ever say no to you. Whatever you decide, I’ll do it. But from my corner it just looks like we’re all fucked up, so let’s be fucked up together.”

Steve found himself nodding once more, and watched Bucky step away and towards the elevator, leaving Steve alone in on the landing pad.

* * *

 He spent a few moments collecting himself before heading up to the conference room, where Bruce was watching the skirmish. Without looking, Bruce slid a mug over to Steve that was filled with hot, steaming tea.

“I figured you would need something to calm you down.”

“What made you think that?” Steve asked, taking a sip.

“Oh, there were dozens of factors only a highly trained professional like myself could pick up on.”

“Such as?”

“It was mostly just the two boys in their twenties with unparalleled amounts of tragic backstory, PTSD and emotional constipation made worse by serum enhancements finally being alone together somewhere other than a hospital room, floating on pain meds. That was the biggest thing I noticed really.”

“You know, the rags all say Tony’s the funny one.”

“Well, let’s keep it that way. I don’t want anyone to know my secret.” Bruce murmured, pressing a button on the screen in front of him and changing the camera angle on the feed Jarvis was sending. “Besides, Tony’s quip-y and snarky, I’m sarcastic leaning towards gallows humor. Subtle shades of difference.”

“How’s it going in the park?”

“Oh fine. It’s Hydra, but there aren’t that many of them. They’re just spread out and acting squirrelly. The time consuming thing is rounding them up, more than fighting. Coulson’s people are coming in to help with containment. They were just too far out to initiate.”

“That’s good. Better than the alternative.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Yeah.” Steve felt tired. “Umm. I know you’re kind of an intermediary between Bucky and the doctors. I should tell you when we were talking he referred to himself in the third person again. Talking about ‘Bucky’ as if he was different. It’s been a few weeks—”

“I know,” Bruce said, stopping him. “He sent me and Dr. Lin a text about thirty seconds before you came in.”

Steve sighed, nodding. They watched the feed for a little while longer, and Steve sat back in the chair, letting the tea calm him down, mulling over what Bucky had told him, maybe feeling even more lost than he had before. He felt tired.

* * *

 That night, after all was said and done, Steve talked to Thor. Bucky had gone to shower, and they were alone in Steve’s apartment, sitting on the couch in the living room.

“Did Bucky tell you we fought? After you left with the others? It wasn’t— it wasn’t good.”

“Aye. He said as much.”

“He told me— well, he told me a lot. But I almost get why he’s pursuing this. I mean, I understood the words, so that’s something.” _Maybe it’s what the words mean that I’m having trouble with,_ he thought. “I figured I’d ask you what you were getting from the three of us together.”

“Not as much as you and Barnes will get, most likely,” Thor answered. “That is your worry, is it not? One of your worries. You’re a man with many.”

“Then why do it?”

“Because I have chosen to.”

 _“Thor’s more fucked up than I think he lets on,”_ Bucky’s voice said in his mind. Steve was quiet. He did not like that answer. It was simple; Thor always made things seem simple. Things had not been simple for years for Steve, how could Thor be so different?

“It’s not fair to you,” Steve finally said. “It’s like we’re… using you.”

“It is not. Even if it were that is a sacrifice I’m willing to make. I would see you happy. Same as I have been doing for months now. I ask that you let me have this decision.”

Steve was going to protest, but it died on his lips as he looked at Thor’s face.

“All you have to do is choose whether or not you’ll play _your_ part in this, Steven,” Thor said. “Not the parts of Barnes and myself.”

“But that’s— so it’s set in stone? Buck and I try to have something with you as a buffer? To hell with what you want?” He sighed, then mostly to himself rather than to Thor; “It’s not fair. It’s—” he scoffed at the ceiling, trying to find the words. “We had something, Thor. I’m not gonna forget that because of Bucky.”

“Nothing is set in stone. It merely is what it is. You act like this is some great chore for me. I am fond of Barnes, and I am very fond of you. If you choose to join, then let me have this as I can. For though it is something small, that is better than having nothing at all.”

“It was easier,” Steve started. “It was almost easier before Bucky came back. With you and me? Wasn’t it?”

“Almost.” Thor sighed. “But that is not where we are now. This could be easy too. We will not know unless we try.”

Steve nodded. The same way he had nodded at Bucky. He leaned back on the couch, sinking into the cushions with a huff. It felt like he was still missing something. What Bucky said, what Thor said. It was as if they were speaking in a code that Steve could not break. He was supposed to be gleaning some other meaning from their words, but he could not figure it out.

He thought of the night he had slept with Thor. That had been the wrong thing to do. He thought of Bucky kissing him, face sticky with blood on his kitchen floor. That had been so wrong too. Steve tried to think through that, but nothing actually felt right at all anymore. 

“I still need to think about it for a bit.”

“We will do whatever you ask of us. You have my word. You do not even need my word, you know I speak true, but you have it all the same.”

“I know. I just need some time.”

“We will wait for your decision then.” Thor clapped Steve on the knee, and stood up and began to walk towards the bedroom. He paused. “Don’t—“ he stopped himself.

“Don’t what?”

“Barnes would slay a dragon for you. If you asked, I admit I would as well. We are at your mercy in this in many ways, so do not—“ he huffed, trying to find the word.

“Take advantage?” Steve asked.

He sighed, looking sad at that. “Aye.”

“Do you think I would?”

“Not intentionally. But tread carefully, until you come to your decision. I would see you happy, as I have told you, but I would as much see that Barnes not be hurt. He is a good man.”

Steve nodded. “He’s the best. I’ll— I’ll try.”

“Sleep well, Steven.”

And with that he was gone. Steve stood and walked to the guest room alone. That did not feel right either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christ, why did that conversation turn into a fight? I wanted happy make-outs. Why is this happening to me? Also Bruce is fun to write.


	29. Chapter 29

“Come on, old man. You used to hit me in Russia!” Natasha shouted sliding across the floor dodging a kick from Bucky.

Feint, counter-feint, jab, cross, dodge, roundhouse, crescent-kick.

Steve watched at the edges of the mat as the two of them moved like whip cracks. Steve had never seen anyone fight that fast. Thor stood next to him, near but not overcrowding him, while Colonel Rhodes, Bruce, Tony and Clint sprawled on the bench. The others joked, but Steve could not find it in himself to join in. The doctors had given Bucky the all-clear, but that meant nothing to Steve. Sure he was technically healed, but what if fighting damaged something the doctors missed? What if it triggered something in the Winter Soldier? Steve and Natasha both had been on the receiving end of that, the bad end of the metal arm and Natasha was not even scared. Steve was terrified for everyone in the room.

“Get him where it hurts Nat!” Clint called out.

“Ten bucks on Barnes,” Tony said, sipping from a long straw out of a massive Starbucks cup.

“Twenty,” Rhodes replied.

“You gonna spar with him, Cap?” Clint asked.

“No, probably not,” Steve said. He thought back to the helicarrier and the fight on the bridge. He knew they were matched. He did not need to confirm it here. He did not know if he wanted to prove it wrong here. He did not know what he thought really. He thought Bucky would not hurt him.

“Barnes would not even dare try at any rate,” added Thor.

Natasha made to do her signature move, hopping on Bucky’s shoulders to pull him down with her thighs. By some miracle, he pulled out of it, somersaulting across the floor, gliding across the mat on his toes and pausing, poised cat-like right at Steve and Thor’s feet, facing Natasha crouched low on the floor. He snarled, grinning feral at the redhead across the mat from him. Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

_Jesus._

She smirked at him, and called out in Russian. Bucky barked a laugh and they were back at it. Punching and twisting and gnashing their teeth and contorting their limbs, all the while laughing and sparring with their words as well, in English and Russian and other languages too fast for Steve to quite hear. Surprisingly, Thor chuckled at some of the jokes.

“Do you understand them?” Steve finally asked

“Do you not?”

“No.”

He blinked. “Of course. I forget. It is the Allspeak. I understand all and can speak to all. I do not notice your different languages save when I focus.”

“That seems like a good party trick.”

“It does not make your world any less confusing.”

Steve could only nod at that with a small shrug of his shoulders. He bit his lip, never taking his eyes off of Nat and Bucky. If anything they were moving faster now. A wild flurry of limbs, whirlwinding and tornadoing around each other, raw power and speed ramping up in their bones. But then suddenly they stopped.

In an instant they were utterly still. They panted through their noses facing one another, each with a hand at each other’s necks. With a chuckle Bucky stepped back. Natasha laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. The fight was over.

“They don’t make girls like that in Brooklyn, huh Stevie?” Bucky asked, walking over to Steve and Thor, gesturing with his hand at Steve. It took a minute before Steve realized he was asking for the water bottle that Steve was clutching in a death grip. He forgotten he was even holding it.

“Umm. No. I guess they don’t,” he replied softly, handing the bottle over.

A blink of an expression flashed on Bucky’s face. Steve thought maybe he didn’t answer the way Bucky wanted him to, but he couldn’t read the look on Bucky’s face before he was swigging back some water and clapping Thor on the shoulder.

“How about you big guy? Want a go?”

“Already you seek another bout?”

“Been sitting still too long. All that healing’s left me antsy.”

“That’s what happens when you stick yourself in the middle of an exploding building, Buck.” Steve hadn’t meant to be callous, but it came out harsher than he meant it.

“Catch your breath,” Thor said with a raised hand, keeping Bucky from snapping back. “And I will spar with you.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Steve turned away and walked to the bench where Natasha was resting, drinking water herself, and he sat down beside her. She looked relatively unruffled, except for a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. He leaned back and watched as Bucky and Thor joked and began lightly jabbing out, feeling out each other’s movements and fighting styles.

“How’re you doing Steve?” Nat asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m fine.” She shot him a tired look out of the corner of her eye. “What?”

“Whatever.” They watched Bucky and Thor circle one another for a moment. Both stood solid but agile. There was less bounce, less agility than when Bucky was fighting Natasha. It was the difference between fighting cat like Natasha, and facing a smilodon like Thor.

“Look at how he changes, Stevie.”

“Don’t call me ‘Stevie.’” He focused on the two men as they started sparring in earnest. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not fighting Thor like he was fighting me. He was fighting me like I fight. I think if he was fighting Clint he would fight like Clint. You get what I’m saying?”

“I guess. It makes sense to use different tactics for different opponents.”

“That’s not what he’s doing.”

“I don’t— what _is_ he doing?”

“He’s letting us know he’s evenly matched with our best fighters. He’s cueing off of everyone else for guidance. He feels out of control. He’s trying to figure out how to interact. He’s been doing it since he came to the tower. It’s just harder for him to hide it here when he’s fighting. You can see it if you look for it.”

“What do you mean guidance?”

“He’s uncertain. Doesn’t know where he fits in with any of us. He’s easiest with Thor, but when someone else is in the room he goes a little more quiet. Even with you, sometimes.”

“He’s my friend, how else could he fit?” Steve did not think back to how well he fit against his body the other night, with Thor right at his side. How well he fit against Steve’s lips—

Natasha rolled her eyes and tsked through her teeth. The sparring between Thor and Bucky was louder than it had been with Natasha. Grunts and guttural battle cries; violent falls on the mat, each of them slapping down hard to lessen the blow. Steve thought Pepper could probably hear it from her office five floors up. Neither of them was gaining ground though.

“You’ve seen me take down Thor, Rogers. And Barnes was just fighting the same way I fight.”

“He’s tired; he was just fighting you.”

“Don’t be obtuse; he could bring down Thor in a heartbeat.”

“Then why doesn’t he?”

“I think it’s because he thinks it’ll bother you.” She turned to face him. “Would it?”

“No. Why—“ Steve stopped himself and thought about it for a moment; “I don’t know.”

“That’s why Thor’s holding back too.”

“Hmm?” _What?_

“They don’t know which one _you_ want to win. They don’t want you to be upset with them if they win or if they lose. They’ll do this for eternity. I could’ve beat Barnes a few times when we were fighting, but he was scared of losing in front of you, so I let up. He was also scared of winning in front of you, so he let up. That’s why we stopped. Now they’re both scared. Which makes me wonder what the hell is going on between you three?”

“I think you’re full of it, Natasha.”

“And you’re a terrible liar… _still_. Glad some things don’t change.” She pulled out her phone and started typing. “I’m going to say something, and you’re going to say these words back to me, out loud so they can hear. Okay?”

He glanced down and read the text on her screen. “No, this is stupid.”

“You just know I’m right.”

He turned to look at her, feeling his jaw clench. She quirked an eyebrow at him and he sighed. “Fine.”

“Barnes almost has it.” Nat said loudly.

Steve rolled his eyes and read the words on her phone. “No, I think this one’s going to Thor.”

SLAM

“Jesus!” said Tony.

“Holy shit,” Rhodes added.

In an instant Bucky was on his back and Thor was over him with a knee on his chest bending down by Bucky’s head with a hand next to his ear on the mat. They both looked at each other panting, faces only a few inches apart. Thor won, but only because Bucky let him and Thor took it. Steve studied them from across the room. It was small, but Steve saw Thor nod, and Bucky nod back.

Steve cursed under his breath. _We would slay a dragon for you._ Steve realized he had not believed Thor. Looking at the two of them now, he felt a weight on his shoulders.

“Told you.” Nat nudged him with her elbow and they watched Thor and Bucky pull each other up to standing. Both of them glanced quickly at Steve and Steve turned away, pretending to look over at Colonel Rhodes and Tony who were watching the takedown again and again, recorded by Jarvis on Tony’s phone.

“A fine match,” Steve heard Thor say, clapping Bucky on the shoulder, but he did not sound like he believed it.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Thor sighed, “Aye.”

Steve finally turned to look at them, and saw both their eyes locked on him, waiting for something, anything. Steve’s stomach dropped and he gaped at them. Steve tried to say something — _to say what?_ — when Natasha stood up and stepped in front of him, blocking their view. A small sigh of relief fell from his lips.

“Come on. I’m going down to Starbucks, and you’re hungry. Let’s go.”

“Yeah, alright.”

* * *

 

As they stood in line at the Starbucks, Natasha looked at the pastries in the display case and Steve attempted to read the menu.

He always ordered the same thing at the coffee chain even though everyone told him to try something different. Everyone had an opinion on Starbucks. Clint was adamant about the Starbucks secret menu, Sam once had Steve order him a ‘soy no foam vanilla latte’ which was apparently his default, and Pepper mentioned something called a ‘skinny caramel macchiato.’ Bruce knew all the different teas they served, and Tony took his drink with extra shots and extra pumps of caramel syrup. Steve was still at a bit of a loss. He felt like the words on the menu weren’t even in English. He kept reading the same thing over and over and it didn’t register. 

“Sam’s almost done with his family stuff. He’ll be here in just a few more days,” Natasha mentioned.

“That’s good.”

“Is it?”

Steve blinked. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because nothing seems to be good with you right now.”

“What does that mean?”

He felt more than saw Natasha frown up at him. “It means—“ but then it was their turn to order, and she shook her head stepping forward, asking for a sweetened passion tea lemonade and two cheese danishes.

“And you sir?”

“Grande dark roast coffee, room for cream.” _The same thing he always ordered._

Nat handed over the Stark Industries charge card before pushing Steve over to the other end of the counter to wait for their drinks. Steve tucked his hands in his pockets and watched the baristas work. It was meditative. They knew what they were doing. Steve almost envied them.

“Steve, what I mean is that we all thought you’d be getting better by now, but it feels like you’re getting worse.”

“You mean when you grounded me from missions?”

“Yeah, but I also mean when we got you to move into the tower.” She sighed. “If you’re not going to talk to me, you’re going to have to talk to Sam. Can you at least do that?”

Steve tried not to roll his eyes at her. What was he going to tell her? What could he possibly tell Sam? That Thor and Bucky propositioned him, and were still waiting for him to answer? That he was scared of breathing around Bucky, because something could set him off, and Steve probably would let it happen. That he could barely look Thor in the eye, and felt a fraud and fool for wanting, but not wanting the right way? That he did not understand what they were asking of him; why they were asking? That he wanted to scream because he knew he was disappointing them both? That he wanted them both, but panicked. That he did not know what to do? That all he wanted was for someone to tell him what to do?

That he still kept seeing them kissing when closed their eyes and it killed him a tiny bit each time?

“What’s there to talk about?” he tried to school his voice but felt a small bubble of panic rising. Bucky and Thor’s faces in the gym flashed in his mind. They were waiting for him. He had to do something.

“You said we were friends. Friends tell each other what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong!” His voice was low, but a little frantic. Natasha’s eyes went wide.

“Here’s your dark roast, with room for cream,” chirped the barista, unaware of their exchange.

Steve blinked and stared at the drink on the counter. “Uh.” Natasha finally grabbed it for him, along with her own and their pastries and walked Steve over to a table and sat him down. She went to put cream in Steve’s drink and brought it back to him, setting it in front of him. She sat opposite him, close enough that their knees touched, and sipped her bright pink drink in silence.

“Eat. You’re hungry,” she finally said, pushing one of the pastry bags over to him. He took it with a sigh, and began to eat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not obsessed with Starbucks. Why do you ask?


	30. Chapter 30

Steve stormed into the conference room a few days later tossing his thin Stark Tablet onto the table with a violent clatter. Everyone was there for the meeting except for Thor and Bucky; something Steve was very grateful for.

“’Sargent Barnes is cleared for active duty on a trial basis within the Avengers Initiative?’ What the hell kind of joke is this?” 

“You memorized it?” Tony asked.

“You don’t get to take that tone with us, Rogers,” Natasha replied over Tony. “You knew perfectly well we were working with him to see what he could bring to the table. You were there for nearly all of it.”

“Yeah but none of us thought we would be bringing the entire Winter Soldier to the table! I thought you were gonna start asking him about Hydra bases. If anything was going to work with Bruce up top during missions. How can you honestly think this is a good idea?”

“We don’t, that’s why it’s on a trial basis,” Tony quipped. “It was all in the email.”

“To hell with your email, Stark!”

“Cool it, Cap!” Clint said standing up. “Where the hell do you get off—“

“We wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t think it was at least worth pursuing, at least for Barnes’s sake, if not the rest of us,” said Natasha, raising her hand to stop Clint. “We know what we’re doing.”

“For his sake? Really? How can this possibly be for his sake?”“There’s no other way for people like us, Steve,” Natasha said. “Clint and I recommended reintroduction back into this life, into the Avengers, because we know it would kill him not to do it.”

“Bucky isn’t a spy-slash-assassin like you two. He was a god damn prisoner of war.”

“But the Winter Soldier is an assassin, he is a spy,” Clint said. “And Barnes is the Winter Soldier. They’re the same person now. He is the most special of special ops tacticians, man. It’s in his blood now. You can’t have him sit in your apartment watching cartoons for the rest of his life. It’ll kill him.”

“Why not? He’s earned it. He shouldn’t be out there fighting. Not anymore.”

“Yeah he’s earned it, but he doesn’t want it, man. You gotta trust me and Nat on this.”

“Like hell he doesn’t want it!”

“Bullshit!”

“Steve,” a low voice said behind him. There stood Bucky and Thor in the doorway, dressed in loose sparing clothes.

“Bucky, you— you gotta tell them this is nuts.”

“They’re right. It was my idea. I want to do this. I want to help. I can’t stay here and do nothing.”

Steve felt the words like a punch. It sounded like something he would say, if Steve was being honest with himself. Is this how Bucky felt when Steve told him over and over he was going to enlist? It must have been. Even worse considering all the horrors Bucky had gone through.

“Bucky, you don’t have to. That’s what I’m trying to say. You can take it easy, take a break.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” muttered Tony. Steve shot him a glare.

“If I need to take a break, I will, I promise,” Bucky said. “But I just spent the last month and a half recouping from my last mission—“

“Your last suicide mission, you mean?” _Bucky, dead on his kitchen floor_.

“Stevie, that’s not—“

“You really want to go there, Steve? Really?” Clint asked.

“Damnit, Clint— this isn’t about me!”

“Bullshit it’s not about you. I bet at least half of this is you just being pissed we won’t let you back in the field. You tell your boy why _you’re_ grounded, man?” Clint walked around the table and stepped in front of Steve. Steve tried to stare down the smaller man, but Clint was glaring up at him, resolute. Steve clenched his jaw. “Does he know? You tell him it’s because you keep jumping off of shit? crashing planes? letting people stab you? And for what? The greater good? That you keep fighting until you’re burned out? That you’re on frickin’ suicide watch—”

Steve blinked. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? What, you didn’t know?”

“Clint,” Bruce said softly.

“No, let’s lay it all out. Dumb blond probably didn’t even notice. Did you know Tony wrote a protocol into Jarvis to measure your vitals? Make sure you’re still breathing? Keep you safe? Hell, if he could he’d probably be measuring your fucking dopamine levels to make sure you weren’t dropping back into depression. Each night one of us is on call in case Jarvis sees you doing something weird.”

“Clint, cool it—“ said Tony. Steve wanted to glare at Tony but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Jarvis had been so helpful these last few days, and now Steve realized that maybe Tony had made it that way.

“Man, did you even notice when we switched out the straight razor in your bathroom with an electric one? When we got rid of the knives in your kitchen? Yeah, it’s because you’re _suicidal_. And you’re not trying to get better. That’s why you’re grounded. That’s why I’m pissed off. I saw you lying on that hospital bed after Barnes stabbed you and thought ‘Thank god,’ because you I thought that maybe, _maybe_ now you’d realize how messed you actually were being. Knock some sense in you. Fuck. We’d rather be struggling out there then let you back because it’s dangerous for you and it’s dangerous for us. So when your bff assassin came around, when he told us he wanted to help — yeah, he told us first — we couldn’t say no. God forbid we have someone in the field who isn’t going to get us killed by accident. Someone who, I don’t know, doesn’t want to die like you—“

“Clint, that’s enough.” Natasha said.

Clint finally stopped, stepping back raising his hands. Steve stood still in the conference room, all eyes on him. He could barely breathe as the others stared at him. The air was thick in his lungs and his stomach lurched and his heart pounded.

He swallowed. Felt himself nodding, and finally spoke: “Right,” he said. “Fine.”

Steve turned and walked through the doorway. As he did, Bucky reached out to him, wrapping his cold metal hand around Steve’s arm. Without thinking, Steve recoiled with a jerk, pulling away from the chill of the metal. He met Bucky’s eyes for just a brief moment.

“Steve, tell me not to do this and I won’t,” Bucky whispered.

Steve stumbled back, shocked, cursing under his breath and walked out of the room.

* * *

He found himself in the kitchen in his apartment. His phone chirped. A text from Clint apologizing. He threw his phone on the counter.

He was still unable to comprehend how the kitchen could be so clean after what happened with Bucky. There had been so much blood. Steve opened one of his drawers, looking at his utensils. Clint was right; the sharp steak knives were gone. How could he not have even noticed?

Bucky wanted back in the fight. Steve realized now that he was itching, restless for it. How could he not have even noticed?

He stepped over to where he found Bucky, sitting against the kitchen island all those weeks ago, facing the dining table and further the window. Steve sank to the floor and sat where Bucky had sat. The view out the large windows was stunning. They faced the south and Steve imagined in the morning the light from the sunrise would be magnificent. That could have been the last thing Bucky had seen, Steve realized — _there are worse things to see while dying._ — If Steve had slept in later, had gone downstairs to the common area kitchen for coffee instead of here, that’s what would have happened. That scared him. He almost did not notice Bucky until he stepped in a pool of his blood. How could he not have even noticed?


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: Brief mentions of past torture. No actual torture depicted.

Steve stepped into his apartment with a hamper full of clean clothes balanced on his hip, a box of cookies from Pepper balanced on top. He navigated through to the kitchen to put the box on the counter when Jarvis started speaking overhead.

“Captain Rogers, Miss Romanoff would like me to inform you that the transcript and video recording of the official interview of Sargent Barnes is available should you wish to view it.”

“Thank you, Jarvis. In the cloud server, right?”

“Yes, but encrypted. You must use your Avengers Initiative password to access it.”

“That’s fine; better even. Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.”

Steve set the hamper down, walked up to the desk and hovered his hand over the glass. The hologram appeared and Steve began typing in his log-in information to access the server. There, right in front of everything were the files in question. Steve opened the transcript with a tap. He knew he could not bring himself to watch the video yet. He started reading, skimming past the introductions of those conducting the interview, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and a Stark Industries lawyer named Cameron Addams, Bucky stating his name, his date of birth, his number — _32557038, James Barnes, 32557- Steve?_ — his rank.

 

> **Addams** : This is the official interview of Sargent Barnes, alias The Winter Soldier, covering the events from his supposed death to present day. Sargent Barnes, you are here willingly and not under any form of duress, correct?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes.
> 
> **Addams** : You are not under oath, this is merely a fact-finding interview. You are free to answer or not answer any questions at your discretion. Do you understand?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes.
> 
> **Addams** : This interview is confidential and under no circumstances will be released unless subpoenaed in the event of legal actions regarding any crimes you may have committed. Do you understand?”
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes.
> 
> **Romanoff:** This interview is for the use of the Avengers Initiative and related parties only. This is not the official recruitment interview, but any information obtained will be subject to assessment with regards to potential future recruitment. Do you understand?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes.
> 
> **Addams:** We have various items of evidence, including documents, pictures, eyewitness statements—

 

Steve skipped ahead. The legal minutia went on for pages and pages.

 

> **Addams** : Sargent Barnes, do you know these men? For the record I am showing Sargent Barnes Exhibits 73a, b, and c. Three autopsy photographs.

 

Steve clicked through to the linked photos. Three men, mid-twenties, dead on metal tables; pale, thin, small, blond. One of them had a bump on the bridge of his nose. Steve blinked.

 

> **Barnes** : I— I remember them. I do not know their names. I don’t think I ever knew their names.
> 
> **Addams** : How did you know them?
> 
> **Barnes** : These first two were prisoners of the Soviets and Red Room, the last was a prisoner of Hydra operating through SHIELD in the United States.
> 
> **Romanoff:** And what was the nature of your interactions with them?
> 
> **Barnes** : They were used as a way of controlling me. Kept in the same cell as me when they couldn’t put me in the cyrotank. They were tortured.
> 
> **Romanoff:** Were you the one who tortured them?
> 
> **Barnes** : No. But they were tortured because of me. They would be tortured if I acted out or failed to complete an assignment.
> 
> **Barton:** As incentive to follow orders?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes.
> 
> **Addams:** How were they tortured?
> 
> **Barnes** : Standard methods. Deprivation of food, light, water; physical abuse, mental abuse. They did not know why they were there in the first place. They were picked up off the street, thrown into a cell with me. That alone was probably torture enough. I was not nearly as nice and friendly then as I am now.
> 
> **Addams:** Our research indicates that these three subjects were the most effective in controlling you in this way, but there were others that were less effective. Do you know why?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes.
> 
> **Romanoff:** Why were they more effective, Sargent Barnes?
> 
> **Barnes** : Because they looked like Steve Rogers.

 

Steve looked away from the report, and stood, stepping away from the desk to steady his breathing, running his hands through his hair, blinking. _Shit._ He sat back down and skimmed ahead a few pages. 

 

> **Addams** : Sargent Barnes, you yourself were tortured during your time with the Soviets and Hydra, is this correct?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes.
> 
> **Addams** : Speaking figuratively, how would you rate your torture?
> 
> **Barnes** : Excuse me?
> 
> **Barton:** Cam, are you sure that’s—
> 
> **Addams** : On a scale from one to ten; one being jail after a bar-fight, ten being completely unspeakable, how would you rate your torture?
> 
> **Barnes** : A nine. Maybe nine and a half.
> 
> **Barton** : Not a ten?
> 
> **Barnes** : No.
> 
> **Addams** : And why is that?
> 
> **Barnes:** Because I survived.

 

Steve’s breath was shaky in his lungs. _Shit._

 

> **Addams:** How were you tortured?
> 
> **Barnes:** I can’t— every way possible. I’d say it’d be easier to ask which ways I _wasn’t_ tortured, but I can’t think of any.
> 
> **Addams:** Can we assume your experience was comparable to the ‘standard methods’ you described earlier.
> 
> **Barnes:** Yes. And then some.
> 
> **Addams:** Physical?
> 
> **Barnes:** Yes.
> 
> **Addams:** Emotional? Psychological?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes, yes.
> 
> **Addams:** Mental? Sexual?
> 
> **Barnes** : Yes, yes.

 

_No._

 

Steve closed the report. He could not finish it. He pushed his chair away from his desk, collapsing in on himself, head in his hands, breath ragged in his lungs. He did not want to read Bucky describe in detail all the ways he was tortured. Did not want Clint and Natasha to delve in depth into all the ways he killed.

No, _that was wrong._ He wanted to read it. He wanted to know exactly what happened, wanted to know exactly how to react, how to help, wanted to know what to do—

“Steve?”

Steve jumped and turned around. Thor was there, standing near the couch.

“Hey, I— I uh—“

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better.” Steve stood and picked up his abandoned hamper of clothes and walked into the bedroom, Thor following quietly. “I was— I was reading the transcript of the—“

“Barnes’s interview? I watched the proceedings as they happened. Did you read it all?”

Steve put the hamper on the bed, and pulled out the first shirt and started folding. “No, I- I couldn’t.”

“That is probably well. It is not your burden.”

“Yes it— I should know what happened.”

“And you will; when you are ready you will read it in its entirety. But you do not need to know yet.”

“I should’ve—“

He stopped himself, huffed softly and grabbed and folded the next shirt. Thor walked up and pulled out a shirt from the hamper, mirroring Steve’s movements, his brow furrowed. The result was definitely not up to Army standards. Steve could not remember the last time he saw a shirt folded so poorly.

“Jeez, Thor. You ever fold a t-shirt before?”

“Yes, and I bought them all at the Banana Republic in Asgard.” Thor met his eye, smirking and they both snorted. “I might not know how anyway even if we did have them, growing up a prince. I’ve been spoiled for housework.”

“I shouldn’t’ve asked. You can do the socks.”

“Gladly.”

They stood together quietly, lost in the chore. The hamper was soon empty and Steve started putting away his clothes in the drawer of his dresser. It was so mundane, so normal. He should not have been doing it, if he was being perfectly honest. Tony — or rather, Pepper — had a whole crew of people who came and cleaned and kept the tower running smoothly. Steve never even saw them, they were that good at their job. He wondered if Natasha or Clint, or even Bucky knew where they were, with their heightened spy senses. Would they even let a complete stranger into their apartment to clean?

“I should’ve jumped after him,” Steve said very softly. “Even if I had died doing it— they wouldn’t leave Captain America’s body— they would have seen Bucky was missing if I was the only body. They would have looked for us if I had been taken with him. I could have stopped them— I could’ve— I should have jumped.”

“But you did not jump after him,” Thor said. “And it haunt you until the day you die.”

“You sound so sure.”

“Because I am sure. I know it to be true. You do not have a claim on all grief, all guilt. You are not the only one to not jump after a fallen friend.” His voice grew softer. “A fallen brother.”

_Loki. Thor’s watched him die twice now._

“God, shit. Sorry.”

Thor sighed, pulled his hair back in a knot at the nape of his neck, and ran a hand over his face. “Come, Tony sent me to find you and bring you up to eat, not do house chores. He is buying Thai food for dinner. He said you can grab a plate and take it back here, but you must eat.” He led Steve out the door with a hand on Steve’s back, but it was a light, platonic touch. Steve almost wished it wasn’t. They walked to the elevator and headed to the common area.

“Why didn’t you jump?” Thor asked after a long moment as they rode up.

“What?”

“From your files, from what I have read of you, you did not jump after Barnes, but you have been jumping into everything ever since. What changed?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m afraid of heights.”

Thor laughed. “That is the last thing I would have imagined.”

“I try not to let it get to me so much anymore. I made that mistake once.”

 


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **HEADS UP: GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF VIOLENCE/TORTURE IN THIS CHAPTER.**

Steve sat at the small dining table in his apartment. It was quiet. Bucky and Thor had gone down to spar leaving Steve by himself. Everyone had been leaving him alone since Steve had found out Bucky was going back in the field. He was already pretty well practiced in avoiding people, so it was an easy thing to slip back into. However, this time Bucky and Thor were always present, but thankfully did not push Steve to make a decision about their proposal. Neither did they push Steve about Clint’s accusations about Steve’s state of mind. They let him be. It was probably the greatest gift they could have given him.

Steve knew it would not last. At some point, someone was going to corner him, force him to talk about what was wrong, and Steve was dreading it. The idea of anyone knowing what was going on in his mind, with Thor, with Bucky, with everything, was a heavy weight. They did not need to know. They had more important things to worry about. It felt like a waste of resources to check in on him. If he had to put money on it, it was going to be either Natasha or Bruce coming to pay him a visit.

He was half reading an article on his Stark pad and half staring out the window into the New York night sky when he heard the elevator ding.

“Did the others send you to get some answers outta me? It won’t work,” Steve said to the soft steps coming up behind him in, not turning around. The steps were too soft to be Bruce, who tended to shuffle. He did not want to talk to Natasha. He bluffed, or rather told a half-truth; “There’s nothing to tell, and I can withstand pain with the best of them. Tortured in the war, Natasha. Do your worst.”

“You tortured in the war? I never knew that, man” said a voice that was distinctly not Natasha’s.

Of course not. He would not hear Natasha’s steps at all.

Steve spun around and saw Sam Wilson standing there with a laptop bag and a grin on his face. It felt like Steve’s ribs were suddenly allowed to expand once more as he hopped up from his chair and walked over to Sam, almost expecting the man to disappear.

“Sam, Christ!” Steve enveloped the man in a fierce hug, a bubble of laughter coming from his mouth, surprising both of them. “When did you get in?”

“Just now. Final trip too, I’m here for good, big guy.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“Did you miss me that much?”

“I guess I did. I didn’t realize.”

“You know, Nat wouldn’t even let me put my bag down. She sent me straight up to your floor and told me to quote; ‘take care of Rogers.’ But no offense, I’m starving and my mom has a no alcohol rule, so lord knows I need a drink. I’m going to take care of you but I’m going eat and have some beer at the same time.”

“Sounds perfect, let’s get out of here.”

* * *

The restaurant was not too crowded, but Steve and Sam chose a secluded table in the corner that offered the most privacy anyway.  It was dark and a little smokey where they sat, near the kitchen. Occasionally the door would swing open, letting out all the noise and bustle of cooks and dishwashers, but the servers were using the other entrance to the kitchen, so it was relatively quiet where Steve and Sam sat. A TV played a football game nearby, but neither of them were watching it. Steve realized he had not actually left the tower in weeks, except the occasional Starbucks trip which hardly counted as it was on the ground floor of Stark Tower.

“Don’t waste your money, it won’t get me drunk anyway,” Steve said when Sam ordered them a pitcher of good beer.

“It’s Stark’s money. I’ve barely used the card he gave me so I’m making up for it now.” Sam waved his wallet in the air before tossing it on the table between them. “Tell me about being tortured. Or interrogated?”

“It wasn’t real, exactly.”

“What do you mean? How can you not really be tortured?”

“It happened after I rescued the 107th. When they realized I was going to be going into the field, they wanted to see what kind of interrogation I could withstand. All the recruits went through a sort of crash-course during Basic, but suddenly I was a high-priority target. Brass needed to know if they would have to train me up more.”

“So, tell me about it.”

* * *

_“Captain Rogers,” called a voice behind him as he walked through the mud from the Administration tent back to his quarters._

_“Agent Carter.” Steve tried not to flush, but failed. Even in the damp fog, and icy chill of the mid-winter she was flawless and unruffled. Steve envied her that. He hated the cold._

_“I’m going to tell you a set of coordinates, and under no circumstances are you to reveal those coordinates to anyone. Is that understood?”_

_“Uhh,” Steve sputtered. “Yes, yes ma’am.”_

_She stood up on her tiptoe and whispered the coordinates in Steve’s ear. Then with a sharp nod, walked away, leaving Steve standing in the mud, mist drizzling down on him as he tried to remember what he had been doing before._

* * *

“So, do you still know the coordinates?” Sam asked, glint of mischief in his eye.

“Not telling,” Steve replied, taking a drink of his beer. Sam snorted into his beer.

* * *

_“Captain Rogers. You remember Lieutenant Falsworth, and Specialist Morita?” Colonel Phillips asked as he led Steve into a room far away from the hustle and bustle of the base._

_“Yes sir.”_

_The room they stood in was small, underneath the large estate that was acting as their base of operations. The room was dark and cold. Moist in a way only old basements could be. Three men stood in the room waiting for him. Morita, Falsworth and—_

_“And of course, you know Sargent Barnes.”_

_“Yes sir.”_

_There was a table in the room, and a few chairs. And one lone metal chair with built-in restraints._

_“Gentlemen, you have twelve hours.”_

_“Thank you, Colonel,” Falsworth said as Phillips left the room._

* * *

“Morita and Falsworth? And you chose them for the Commandos?”

“Figured out first hand that they were good at what they did, didn’t I?”

* * *

_The restraints bit against Steve’s skin, cold and metal._

* * *

“I probably could have broken them. I realize that now. I still didn’t know my own strength then yet.”

* * *

_“Bucky?” Steve whispered, confused, scared soft enough so the others would not hear._

_Bucky grabbed him by the back of his head and put his mouth down low by Steve’s ear._

_“Don’t break.”_

_Steve nodded._

* * *

_“Now, Captain,” said Falsworth smoothly. “Tell me the coordinates entrusted to you by Agent Carter.”_

_Steve said nothing. Bucky smiled._

* * *

_“That’s enough.” In an instant Bucky and Morita stopped punching Steve. His ribs were broken, his face was bloody. Steve coughed and bent over himself as much as he could with his hands shackled behind his back in the cold metal chair. Blood dripped down onto his pants from his broken nose, or was it from his mouth?_

_“Captain, tell me the coordinates Agent Carter gave you.”_

_Steve looked up and met Falsworth’s eye. Bucky and Morita moved to stand behind the Lieutenant, faces icy and unyielding. Falsworth waited patiently as Steve took a breath, wet and bloody in his lungs._

_He spat at the Brit across the table._

_Bucky smiled._

* * *

_“Broken fingers, broken ribs, what next Captain? This could all be over if you just give us what we want. Coordinates. Not even military coordinates. All this pain for what?”_

_“I can do this all day.”_

_Bucky smiled._

* * *

_“Take off his shoes and socks, Barnes.”_

_Barnes knelt down at Steve’s feet but did not look up when Steve tried to meet his eye. Bucky was gentle as he removed Steve’s boots and socks. Blood had seeped through, and one of his feet was stained: A raspberry brown rorschach test; Steve saw a train when he glanced at it, but the image was fleeting. Steve hung his head and watched as Bucky tucked Steve’s socks into his boots and set them aside under the table ever so gently. He put a warm hand on Steve’s foot._

_“You got a knife?” Morita asked._

_“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky pulled a knife out of nowhere. Hidden in his sleeve? At his waist? Steve blinked as the metal glinted in the low light. “Soles of his feet?”_

_“Cut off his toe.” Falsworth said._

What?

_“Phillips said no permanent damage.”_

_“He’ll live.”_

_“Bucky, wait…”_

_“The coordinates, Captain.” Morita said._

_Steve said nothing. He closed his mouth, and braced himself for the pain as best he could._

_“Very well,” Falsworth said. At his nod, Bucky took Steve’s pinky toe in his fingers, and with a deft hand cut through flesh and bone. It was a clean cut. Steve knew in the back of his mind it could have been made to hurt a lot more. But it still hurt. Steve screamed out for a moment before biting his tongue and grunting in pain, trying desperately to silence himself._

* * *

“Dude, what the fuck?” Sam said. “You don’t have a toe?”

“No, wait. Let me finish.”

* * *

_“Let’s pause for a second, guys.”_

_“Morita, you can’t just say that in an interrogation.”_

_“Hear me out. We’ve been literally watching him heal in front of us, right? Look, I cut him right here earlier. It’s not even there anymore. What if he did that with his toe?”_

_“What?” Bucky asked._

_“What?” Steve asked._

_“Are you saying it’ll grow back? Like a lizard tail?” Falsworth asked._

_“No, come on man, didn’t you go to fucking Oxford? Jimmy, just try something. Put the toe back by his foot. Just hold it there for a minute.”_

_“Who’s Jimmy?” Steve asked in a daze. He was not entirely sure he wasn’t just dreaming this whole conversation._

_“I am, you big lug. Well, we all are technically,” Bucky said, looking up from the floor. He pointed to himself, Morita and Falsworth. “Jimmy, Jim, James.”_

_“You didn’t tell them to call you Bucky?”_

_“Too busy being a POW. You have more important things to worry about. Okay? Here we go.”_

_Steve winced as Bucky pressed his now disconnected toe back against the stub on his foot._

_A minute passed. “Oh fuck,” Steve groaned. “Oh god, it’s tingling,” Bucky squeezed his knee softly, looking pale. “Bucky…” His stomach churned. “Oh my god, I’m gonna be sick.”_

_“Just don’t puke on me.”_

_All four of them stared at Steve’s foot, the task at hand momentarily forgotten. Bucky was able to let go of the toe after about five minutes, when enough skin had grown back to hold it in place. After thirty minutes had passed, the toe, which had turned blue from lack of blood, looked just as bright, pink and healthy as it had before it had been removed, matching the other nine. There was only a faint line where Bucky had made the cut but Steve knew in a few more minutes that would not be there either._

_They all stared at each other for a moment in silence. After a moment, Steve wheezed out a pained laugh, and the others joined in. They giggled together for a moment the way they all used to when they were younger, slightly hysterical, completely unable to stop._

_“What the fuck did they do to me?”  Steve finally said when they settled down._

_“Holy god, Stevie,” Bucky murmured. “Did you know you could do that?”_

_“No.”_

_“That was gross as hell,” Morita murmured.”_

* * *

“I don’t think I’m hungry anymore,” said Sam. “That was gross as hell.”

“We haven’t even ordered yet!” Steve said. “Come on. I’m not going back to the tower without at least a burger.”

“Fine.”

“Besides, it felt worse. Like, the bones were crackling. Like that candy you had me try where it’s fizzy in your mouth.”

“Ugh. Waitress! Whiskey please!”

Steve snorted and Sam kicked him under the table.

* * *

_“Rogers, I’d recommend keeping that aspect of your anatomy a secret, in case you ever really are captured.”_

_“Why?” Steve asked, gasping a little. He still felt sick to his stomach as he stared at his now whole foot._

_“Infinite toes, Cap,” Morita said. “How many times do you think they could cut them off before you broke? Shit, I wonder if you could do that with hands or limbs too.” He punched Steve lightly on his left arm, and Steve shuddered at the thought._

_“Right, back to work.”_

_With that, Falsworth stepped forward and backhanded Steve violently; a large ring on his finger connected with Steve’s brow-bone with a soft crunch. Steve groaned and closed his eyes._

_“Take this, Jimmy.” Another flash of metal, another hidden knife._

_“Little small don’t you think?”_

_“Yes well, I don’t know if his eye will fix itself like his toe,” Morita said. “This party trick is a little more delicate.”_

What?

_“Remember this one, Barnes. Put the knife there.” A finger touched his face, right next to his eye. “There’s a nerve cluster right there. Too shallow and the knife is just an itch. But don’t go too far, you’ll hit his brain.”_

What?

_“How do I know when I’m where I’m supposed to be?”_

_“You’ll know.”_

_Bucky’s familiar hands touched Steve’s face, moving his head up towards the light. The tip of the knife touched his face and Steve flinched. Bucky’s grip on his face grew firmer._

_“Tell me the coordinates. It’s okay, it’s been eleven hours. Most guys woulda cracked by now.”_

_Steve didn’t mean to but he whimpered._

_“Tell me, Stevie.”_

Don’t break.

_Steve clenched his jaw and stared up at Bucky. As much as he could with the other’s hands holding his face still, Steve shook his head. Bucky nodded, looked for a moment at the others and then  drove the knife through his skin._

_Steve had never screamed so loud in his life. Part of him was vaguely aware that Morita had come around and was holding him still so Bucky’s knife wouldn’t do any more damage than it had to as Steve flailed violently against the restraints. He saw red. His own blood dripped into his eyes and over his face. He could smell it and taste it and was breathing it all the while screaming his throat raw. It hurt. It burned. He couldn’t breathe._

_“Tell us the  coordinates!”_

_“No!”_

_He saw Bucky’s eyes, cold and steady looking down on him, and then he saw black._

_He woke after a moment. The knife was gone. Bucky sighed and Steve whimpered once more, the pain still radiating from the side of his face like acid in his muscles. His head lolled down at his shoulders, and Bucky’s hand rested on the back of his neck. Steve’s breaths were wet and ragged in his chest. The stench of blood filled his nostrils._

_“Got anything else?” Bucky asked, softly. Steve pulled his head back up and looked at Bucky through the blood in his eyes, meeting his gaze. He breathed heavily through his nose, not veering away from Bucky’s eyes._

_“No. I think we’re about done here,” Falsworth said._

_“Good,” Morita said, and he started undoing the restraints on Steve’s arms._

_“Good job, Stevie,” Bucky murmured._

_Steve felt a release in his chest, and leaned into Bucky’s hand holding eye contact with Bucky._

_He smiled up at Bucky. “You said don’t break,” he grated out._

_Bucky turned pale, “Jesus Christ,” he whispered._

_He stepped away; out of the room, out of Steve’s sight. Steve groaned as the warm hand left his skin, and fell forward and rested his head against the table, wheezing and still coughing blood as Morita finished with the restraints on his legs. Outside the door he heard the sound of Bucky retching onto the grass._

* * *

“Jesus, man,” Sam said looking at his drink.

“You asked.”

“I did. I’m regretting it now.”

“It’s an interesting story.”

“Forgive me if I don’t tell it to my niblings.”

“Niblings?”

“Nieces and nephews. The niblings.”

“This century never ceases to impress me. It’s always the little things that get me like new words. You’d think it’d be the big things; movies about telekinetic ninjas in space, but that was kinda like the comics we used to read. Words are weird; upcycle, emoji, geezer, bootylicious.”

“Don’t say ‘bootylicious’ if you ever want me to take you seriously.”

“Spellcheck doesn’t even catch it, Sam. _Spellcheck_. That’s another word!”

Sam laughed and took a swig of his beer. “Might tell the toe part. One of my nieces, Vanessa, just straight up goes crazy for that sort of gross crap. Anything blood, guts or boogers. God, to be twelve years old again, huh?”

“Glad I could help. I’m sure I’ve got plenty of booger stories for her if I think hard enough.”

“Eat your damned burger, man.”

They fell back into amiable silence for a moment. Steve nudged his plate over to let Sam eat some of his curly fries, and Sam threw some of his sweet potato fries back on Steve’s plate. They ordered another pitcher of beer when the waitress passed by, and then got a plate of potato skins. Steve ate most of it, suspecting that among other things, the others were worried he was not eating enough and had passed the message onto Sam. If it were anyone other than Sam, he would probably be annoyed that he had yet another person piling him with food.

“Are you going to ask me what’s wrong?” Steve finally asked. “That’s what Natasha meant right? ‘Take care of Rogers’?”

“I was going to wait until you were finished with your burger. Maybe order you a second one too, man. Or something else. You’re like a damn vacuum. Are they even feeding you?” Steve rolled his eyes. “Besides, my interrogation skills aren’t that good. I don’t think I could cut off your toe while you were still eating. That just seems messy.”

“Sam—“

“Eat. I can wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam Wilson is a beautiful butterfly, and deserves better than hearing about chopped off toes. I'm actually just super glad I got him to show up finally. I love him, and I really love him as Steve's new best friend, and Steve really needs a friend right now.
> 
> Also, I'm still petrified because I keep thinking it's "Farnsworth" and not "Falsworth" and it's leaving me a nervous nelly.
> 
> Also, also; yes, Daredevil inspired part of this scene. Whoops.


	33. Chapter 33

It felt like Steve could finally breathe now that he was with Sam. He fell back into his comfortable banter with the man, without any of the previous months’ troubles. Sam having been gone was a blessing in disguise. Sam was not there when the Avengers decided to ground Steve, or seen Steve in the hospital, drugged and dazed watching Bucky get stitched up, or watched Steve jump out a window for the sake of a glowing orb. Steve worried that it might have been worse if Sam witnessed everything; would he be smiling at Steve now?

Steve did not deserve that smile. Every other breath he forced himself not to stare at Sam’s neck, where he had taken a bullet. For Steve. For Steve while they were looking for Bucky. How was Sam even real? Even after the Singapore mission, Sam told Steve it was just a graze, but it clearly was not and Steve still felt Sam’s blood hot between his fingers. Steve thought perhaps he should just stand up, walk Sam back to the airport, fly him away somewhere safe, somewhere away from Steve.

But then Sam would smile again, would laugh at a dumb joke, and Steve would feel the weight on his shoulders a little less, even if he did not deserve the relief.

They were trading stories, but Steve was careful not to talk about his bizarre situation with the other two men in his life. Despite everything on his mind, he was able to keep up a steady stream of nothing as they worked through their beer and food. He talked about past missions, the glowing orbs, things Tony said, or Bruce said. They laughed at stupid jokes, and they teased each other easily. Sam asked how he was getting along with the list of 21st century things Steve meant to catch up on. Steve asked him about where Sam settled his mom, and his family in upstate New York. It was easy.

“Alright. It’s time. Are you doing okay?” Sam finally asked.

“Hmm? Sure. I’m fine.” _I’m fine._

“You know you can be not-fine in front of me.”

The words gave Steve pause. He wiped his hand on a napkin; “You trying to psychoanalyze me? This like one of your meetings?”

“No. I’m trying to be a friend. I’m not on the clock. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Who said anything’s wrong?”

“Nat for one. And you. I show up and your first thought is of interrogation. That’s _telling_ if nothing else. A weird first reaction. You feeling guilty or something?” He raised his eyebrow. “You hustling drugs? Gotta be careful. I hear there’s a dude in a mask in Hell’s Kitchen beating up dealers these days. Ain’t that a kick?”

“Not sure how I feel about the vigilantism to be quite honest. I’ve heard about him. _Daredevil._ He’s doing the right thing but I wish he didn’t have to. But I think someone will always have to. That’s what bothers me, maybe.” Steve sighed at Sam’s pointed look. “You and Natasha talk about me?”

“Among other things.”

Steve played with the condensation gathering on his cup of beer, drawing lines in the water with his pinky. He slumped back into the seat of the booth.

“What has she told you?” She told him everything, he knew that already. 

“That you’ve been off your game for months, chasing Barnes. Then he showed up and you let him stab you, because you thought that’s what he needed. You’ve been grounded from ops unless it’s just recon, and even then you need a babysitter. Then Barnes came back, basically dead on your kitchen floor.”

Steve stared at the table, not wanting to think about that day, but that was foolish, he thought about it so much anyway…

“Nat said she’d never seen you like that when they found you with him. I was the first person she called afterwards, and she only just mentioned how Barnes had enough shrapnel to kill him, like, no big deal. But she said you were screaming, fighting, completely losing it. Thor had to hold you back and even he was struggling with it. She was scared. Both for you and of you. That sound about right so far?”

“Those are things that have happened.” Steve couldn’t meet Sam’s eyes. He didn’t know it had affected Natasha that badly. His voice dropped. “They tell you they think I’m suicidal? That Jarvis monitors my vitals now?”

“Clint mentioned it. Feels like shit that he yelled at you about it. He’s worried to death about you. They both are. Haven’t talked to Stark or Banner, but I’m sure they are too.”

“Why did Natasha call you first?” he asked. “When Bucky—“ _died on my kitchen floor?_ “—showed up?”

_Why are you calling her Nat?_

“She needed someone to talk to I think. Nat and I talk. Talk pretty regularly actually. She’s visited me in DC to help with the stuff with my mom since you all moved to New York. And we talked for hours when I visited you in the hospital—”

“You visited me in the hospital?”

“You hadn’t woken up yet. Besides, I could only stay less than a day and had to get back to help my folks. But yeah, Nat and I call each other once or twice a week, sometimes more. I thought you knew.” Steve shook his head. Sam wasn’t even sure he talked that much to anybody in Stark’s tower, let alone Sam and anyone outside of it. He had been so distracted.

“But we’re not talking about her,” Sam continued. “We’re talking about you.”

“What else do you need? It seems like you’ve know everything.”

“I want to know if you’re doing okay. With everything going on, I can bet you’re not.”

“I told you, I’m fine.” _I’m fine, I’m fine._

“You’re not though,” Sam said, leaning back on his bench, grabbing his beer. Steve thought about Thor, saying almost the same thing to him weeks ago. He bitterly thought that he had to work on his pokerface; then wished he didn’t have to; then thought that he didn’t and— that was a cycle of thoughts he couldn’t fall into. He looked back at Sam. “I haven’t known you that long, but I can see it, man. You can tell me whatever weird shit’s messing with your head. I’m good at not judging, it’s in my job description.”

“I’m—“ _Fine._ He just wanted to say it, but telling the same lie three times in a single conversation was the last thing Steve wanted to do. “Things are just… weird. I don’t know.”

“Weird in your head, or weird because of someone else?”

“Both.”

“Because of Barnes?”

“Yeah.”

“Because of Thor too? Nat said he was staying in your apartment while Barnes is there.”

Steve tried not to react. Deflected; “Why are you calling her Nat?”

“I mean, I like Thor. But three guys who aren’t exactly from this century or this planet all stuck together has got to be interesting. That’s like a sitcom begging to be written.”

“Interesting is one word for it. Why are you calling her Nat?”

“That’s her name. We’re talking about you. Come on, spill. Things are weird, let’s figure out why.”

“Because I’m living seventy years in the future in a superhero tower with a man with a metal arm, a Norse god, some assassins, Iron Man and the Hulk. It’s weird.”

“Did you like it better in D.C.?”

“Yeah, but I was working in a corrupt government agency then.”

“But you met me, that’s gotta count for something.” Sam said with a grin.

Steve smiled, let out a sigh, and took another sip of his beer. “Sure. That counts for something.”

Sam sighed and waved at the waitress for the check. “Come on, let’s get you home. I’m clearly not gonna get a clear answer out of you tonight. I think I knew that when you told me about losing a toe. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Talk to Stark, he might be able to mix something that’ll get me drunk enough to spill the beans.”

“At least you know there are beans to spill.”

“Hmm.”

* * *

They rode up the elevator in comfortable silence. The lights were dim in the late night hour, and Steve leaned back against the wall, feeling more tired than he realized.

“I’m not suicidal,” Steve said into the quiet. Maybe it was the silence of the elevator that brought it out. Even their secluded corner of the restaurant had felt exposed, not private enough. Here was different. “I don’t think I am anyway.”

Sam leaned forward and pressed the stop button and the elevator smoothly came to a halt.

“You might not be,” he replied. “I think you are going through a lot of stuff. Judgement gets thrown. That’s why the others don’t want you out in the field. It’s as much to protect you as it is to protect themselves, even just mentally. Can’t make a life-or-death decision if you’re not there to make it. We all just want you to get your feet back under you. Suicide watch was just a precaution.”

Steve stared ahead at the elevator door. “I don’t think my feet have been under me since before the war.”

“That may be true.”

“Sometimes I think I should just go. Fury had a cabin I stayed in when I first came outta the ice. Maybe I should go back there. Be alone for a while. Or go further even.”

“Do you want to do that?”

“No, I hated that fucking cabin.”

“Then why do you think you should go there?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you want?” _Would you have us?_ Thor’s words echoed in his head.

“What?”

“What do you want, right now? Don’t think, just answer. Anything at all.”

“I want to know what I’m supposed to do.”

Sam nodded. “Then we’ll figure that out. That’s why I’m here. It might take some time, but we’ll make it happen.”

Steve turned and looked at Sam who was giving him a soft smile. In the dim light of the elevator, Steve could just barely make out the scar from the Singapore mission. How was Sam still even here? How could he even think of helping Steve after what had happened? What had Steve done to deserve having this man as his friend? Steve was finally breathing again, nostrils filling with oxygen and a relief of something he did not even know he was holding on to. Sam sounded certain, but not blind with certainty. He said it like it was simple, but not as simple as Thor always made things out to be. Sam met his gaze, quirking his eyebrow.

Then Steve leaned in and kissed Sam Wilson.

And for just a moment Sam was kissing Steve back, lips warm and full against Steve’s. It was nothing like Thor or Bucky; there were no sparks, no revelations, no clarity.Steve was about to reach up and cup his head when Sam jerked back.

“Oh shit, Sam. That was—“

“Okay, umm, okay.” Sam held up a hand. “Good initiative. But that probably wasn’t a thing you were supposed to do. Like I said, we’ll figure this out, but that might have been a wrong first step. And I think the beer wasn’t helping on my end.”

“Sorry! I’m so sorry! I was— Thor and Bu— I didn’t thi—“

Steve ran a hand through his hair and felt his stomach drop to into his shoes. He didn’t have to look at the reflective walls of the elevator to know there was a fierce blush rising on his cheeks. Then, to make matters worse, of all the things Sam could have done in this situation, he had to start giggling. 

“Oh my god, Sam, I’m so sor—“

Sam pressed the button to go not to Steve’s floor, but Natasha’s. The elevator smoothly made it’s way up and up and Steve stared incredulously at Sam who was now doubled over, his shoulders shaking as he laughed quietly towards the floor.

“Stark must’ve put something in the damn water, man. First Clint and now you. Ooh boy.” 

“What?”

“You are in so much trouble.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Oh, I knew this night was gonna be weird even before you told the damn toe story, but I never would’ve guessed this.” He wiped his eyes, almost calming down before bending over once more and cackling in earnest.

The elevator slid to a stop and the door opened and Sam jumped out, pulling Steve by the arm behind him. Steve realized he had never actually been on Natasha’s floor. He thought it might be a nice place if the first thing Sam hadn’t called out into the living room wasn’t—

“Nat, Steve told me a story about getting his toe cut off and then he kissed me!”

Natasha and Clint turned over from where they were sitting on the couch, eyes wide. Then Clint started cackling, clapping his hands. 

“You are in so much fucking trouble,” Clint wheezed out.

“That’s what I said!” Sam replied.

But worse then that, while the other two laughed, Natasha’s eyes narrowed, and under her glare Steve wondered if he had ever been more terrified in his life.

 


	34. Chapter 34

“Stevie, told me you were always honest. Do you remember that?” Natasha asked as they stood at the tall window, staring out into the night.

“Don’t call me ‘Stevie.’”

“I’ll call you whatever I goddamn want, Rogers. I’m mad at you.”

“Why?”

“ _Do you remember?_ You told me you always honest. But now you’re not. I don’t have many constants in my life, and you went and ripped one out from under me, then started making out with another one in the elevator. I should just leave you to wallow in your own juices. Something’s been eating at you for months, and I thought you needed time, but time’s up. You lost the time privilege when you went and kissed my boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry. For all that.” And Steve was. He remembered that Sam said she had called him first when Bucky showed up. Steve had scared her. Steve hadn’t let her in when he should’ve. He swallowed. “And yeah, I remember.” He felt her eyes on his face, and stared pointedly ahead out the window. “I haven’t been honest.” She said nothing. It felt a little like an interrogation all over again. At least he was keeping his toes. For now. “I always kind of thought— lying seemed like something that you could do once if you need it. But it’s not like that. It’s— I did it once, and it made doing it again easier. And it made people not ask me things, so that was easier too.”

“Are you ready to stop?”

“I don’t know.” She scoffed. “What? That was me being honest. I— I don’t know if I want to stop lying. Someone asks me how I’m doing and it’s so much easier to just say ‘I’m fine’ isn’t it? People have been telling that lie since they could talk. Hell, I’ve probably been saying that since before all this, but it was only a fib because I had a cold or was busy.”

“But it _is_ a lie now? You’re not fine?”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. _Honest, honest, honest, be honest._ He felt naked. _I’m fine, it’s fine, I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine._ “No,” he said at last. “I’m not.”

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step,” Clint called out from the couch, where he sat with Sam. They were playing the slap game of all things; sitting legs crossed on the couch holding out their hands and twitching away. Their reflexes were stunning. In any other world, if it had been any other moment Steve would have taken time from his thoughts to be impressed.

“Though,” Clint continued. “I don’t know if that’s a better or worse first step than going around kissing people’s boyfriends.”

“In my defense I did not know he was _anyone’s_ boyfriend. Let alone—“ he turned around and vaguely gestured at Clint and Natasha “—both of you. At the same time. Together?” He was blushing, he knew it. On top of everything else he was bright red, and god did he hate that.

“Don’t act so shocked, Steve.” Natasha said. “I doubt things were really that different in the forties.”

“Not so different maybe, just quieter, I guess. And this—“ _hits a little too close to home?_

“What about this? Do you not approve? Is this insulting your traditional sensibilities? Should I have asked your permission before courting dear Samuel?” She grinned up at him.

“No! It’s good! You guys are happy, right? That’s what matters.”

“We are. Happier now that Sam’s here for good.” She turned and smiled at the two men. “But, back to the point; you’re not happy.”

“How do you know it’ll work? Being with three people, I mean. Or any of it.”

“It’ll be hard, just like any relationship. Harder still, considering my life, my choices, Clint’s life and Sam’s too. There are some things we will never do; things that just can’t be. I don’t know if it’ll work, but not doing it, not trying, would hurt us all more. And we’ve all been hurt a lot. You’ve been hurt too.”

“I’m pretty good at healing. Got a serum and everything. Erskine’s Pick-Me-Up Potion.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”“Nat, your boy needs to just sit his ass down and stop deflecting,” Sam said not taking his eyes of Clint’s hands, quickly pulling back as Clint tried to get a slap in.

“Right. Business. Sit.” She pulled his elbow and guided him to a chair, sitting down near enough to touch Steve on the couch next to Sam’s back “You elbow me playing that game you’ll regret it, Falcon.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam smiled back, scootching forward towards the other end of the couch. Clint slid back to accommodate him and when they settled back to start playing their game, their knees were touching. Natasha rubbed Sam on the back fondly. They made this look so easy.

She turned then to Steve, and raised her eyebrows. She would stay quiet and staring until he talked, he knew. He traced his finger around the denim on his legs, staring down as he tried to find the words. “I—“ he started, but that wasn’t right. “It’s—“ he tried, but couldn’t say what ‘it’ was. “I just—“ “Thor—“ “Bucky—“ “I don’t—“

“Nat, are you doing that staring thing?” Clint asked not taking his eyes off of Sam’s hands. “That’s gonna take hours, and it’s late. Give him a question he can answer.”

“Yeah. This isn’t a sting op,” Sam added. “And I don’t want him to have another interrogation story about toes.”

“I really want to hear about that,” Clint chirped.

“No, you don’t.” Sam replied. _Slap!_ “Ha! Gotcha. Frickin’ finally, man.”“You’re just slow.”

“Okay,” Natasha sighed. “Is your problem situational, interpersonal or emotional?”

Steve blinked at her and tried not to shake his head. Pointedly he replied, “Yes.”

“‘Yes’? To all three?”

“And then some, probably.”

“Oh is this because—“ Clint looked over to Steve with sudden realization, getting his hands slapped once more in the process. Steve blanched, he’d forgotten Clint knew a little bit about his current situation with Bucky and Thor. About him and Thor. More than the rest of them at any rate. Steve nodded a little bit. “Ohh! Oh man!” 

“Wait, Clint knows?” Sam asked.

“I was spying, it doesn’t count.”

Natasha sighed once more ignoring the other two. “What is your biggest problem right now, Steve? Let’s start there.”

“Um…” Steve bit his lip. “Well it— it might not make sense without context?”

“We can fill in the context later,” Sam said. “If you just say the problem out loud it might not seem like as big a thing as it actually is.”

_Yeah, sure. And the Pope is Hindu._

“Fine,” he took a deep breath. “Bucky and Thor want me to be in a three-way relationship with them, and I told them I’d think about it, and they’re waiting for me to decide, and I don’t know what to do, and I walked in on them kissing.”

All three of them blinked at Steve.

“Okay,” Sam said at last. “I was wrong. We’re gonna need some context. I’ll grab the cookies from the pantry.”

* * *

“So, let me get this straight, feel free to correct anything,” Nat said when Steve had finally finished. “You love Bucky. Bucky loves you. Bucky won’t sleep with you, do anything or even sometimes be in the same room with you more often than not without Thor. Bucky now loves Thor—“  _“Because really, who doesn’t love Thor?”_   “—Clint, please. And Thor loves Bucky. Thor loves you.”

“Thor doesn’t love me,” Steve said. Natasha raised her eyebrow. “But that is essentially what is going on, yes.”

She let out what Steve assumed was a low curse in Russian. “Steve, you are really stupid.”

“Hey.” Steve tried to be at least a little angry, but did not have the energy. Clint handed him a cookie, and he took a bite of it spitefully instead.

“This would have been much easier if you had been upfront about it from the beginning. Anything else you’re not telling us?”

“No, that’s it,” he said around the cookie. She stared at him, and he looked away only to meet Clint’s eye. The archer stared back at him, brow raised. Steve sighed. “Except…”

“Except what?”

“I slept with Thor.” The words fell from his mouth softly. He could barley hear them. It was soft when he confessed it to Bucky on the hospital bed, and it was soft now as he looked at Natasha, desperate to gauge her reaction. Her face was neutral, so all he could do was keep going.

“And it was… _so much._ And he was everywhere. And I finally felt warm. It was —and I shouldn’t have done it, but it was right after we were trying to find Bucky in the Alps again, on the train. And I couldn’t feel anything except being so angry. It was like I was screaming, but no noise was coming out. And I felt something with him. But it’s not like what I feel with Bucky. And Thor is acting fine with being just this intermediary between us, but I don’t think he’s fine, but I don’t know what he’s feeling. And he made me feel and I can’t just leave him hanging like that. And I keep trying to make it make sense, and I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

“I think the word for that is confused. You feel confused.”

Steve rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “Well, when you put it like that…” He blinked, forcing tears back. His eyes stung. _Where did those come from?_  

“Is it because you have different feelings for them? Is that the problem?”

“Maybe. No. Maybe.”

“Because love is different for everyone. You’ll never have the same feelings for James as you do for Thor, because they’re not the same person.”

“Yeah, I— that’s fine.”

“But there’s something else?”

“They— they act like this is so easy. Thor said this could be easy. That there’s nothing wrong. Like it could be just us and there isn’t anything wrong, but there is stuff that’s wrong, with Thor, with Bucky,” he gasped, desperately pulling back the words _with me_ , from his lips.“And they want me to just be with them like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like at a moment’s notice we won’t all be dead. I can’t pretend away Bucky’s arm, or Thor mourning Loki and his mother. I can’t ignore everything that’s wrong with us like they are. I can’t unsee it, I can’t ignore it. I can’t fix it, and they deserve to be… _fixed_?” He sighed. “But that’s not the right word. They deserve to be whole, and I’m not— They want— Bucky said we’re all fucked up, so let’s be fucked up together. Thor said having something small was better than having nothing at all. They want—”

“They’re both right.”

“But that’s not—“

“Not ideal? Did you want a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence? That might never be a reality for people like us.”

“I know that! That’s not— it doesn’t make sense!”

“What doesn’t?”

“Nat, pull back,” Sam murmured. Natasha sighed and pushed the box of cookies closer to Steve, but Steve did not take another this time. He huffed and leaned back in the chair, staring at the coffee table in front of them.

“Steve, what do you want?” Sam asked.

“I don’t— what?”

“Before, you told me you wanted to know what you were supposed to do. I think we can’t figure that out unless you figure out what you want at all. You keep talking about what Thor and Barnes want, but you haven’t said what you want.”

Steve said nothing so Sam continued, voice low and steady.

“If there was nothing holding you back. If Thor was not messed up from Loki, and if Barnes was completely ready, no Hydra mindfucking, no residual things to work through. Would you want them? Would you say yes then?”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t make sense, and they don’t—”

“But they say they’re fine. It might not be true, but they’re the best judge of that, aren’t they?”

“But they’re not. They keep saying they want—”

“Then why would they say it?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t—” _it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make sense._

“Do you trust them?”

“With my life.”

“Then why won’t you trust them when they say they’re ready? That they want you?”

“Because they don’t!” Steve yelled.

And there it was. That made sense. That opened the floodgates.

“Steve—“

“They don’t want me!” Steve almost couldn’t breathe. It was relief and terror and realization all at once. “They don’t. Not really. They can’t. How could they? How the hell could they want me!? They’re messed up, and mourning, and dying and confused and that’s what’s making them think that way! That’s the only thing that makes sense.” _That makes sense. What else could it be?_ “They’re fucked up, Bucky said it himself. And I’m even more fucked up. I let Bucky cut off my toe for Christ’s sake! I was wrong before all this ever happened! Who wants someone who does that? Who’s like that? They’re confused. They don’t want me. That’s why— why would they want me? They don’t want me. How could anyone— they don’t know, they don’t know what they want. They don’t want me! Oh god, they don’t—”

“Steve!” Nat shook his shoulder, pulling him back. “God Steve, of course they _want_ you.” She was kneeling in front of him pushing his face up so their eyes could meet, _when did she get there?_ “Shh, shh, shh. You’re crying, it’s alright. You’re freaking out. It’s alright.”

“I’m fine.” _I’m fine._ “I’m not cr—“ he touched his face, and his hand came back wet. _When did that happen?_ “I don’t—“

“Hey, hey, hey,” she murmured. “God, how long have you been carrying that?”

“I’m not—“ he tried to stand up, and she pushed him back down into the chair by his shoulders.

“Steve,” Nat spoke very slowly, forcing him to meet her eyes. “This isn’t about them right now. This is about you. You’re panicking, you’re drawing false conclusions, you’re overthinking, you’re hurting yourself. Take a few deep breaths for me, okay?”

He did as she said, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth, feeling her cool hands on his face holding him steady. “I’m sorry— I shouldn’t’ve— sorry, I should go—“

“Yeah, like that’s happening,” Clint snorted from the couch. Steve looked over and saw Sam and Clint watching him, but he could not meet their eyes. His face flushed and he looked down at his knees, putting his head in his hands.

“I shouldn’t have said that— any of that. I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine, Steve. _Steve_ , it’s fine. That’s why we’re here. Hey, look at me, come on.” He turned to face Natasha once more. “Forget everything you’ve been thinking of, okay? Stop thinking so hard just for a minute.”

Steve nodded.

“Let’s look at what matters here. You. We’re not talking about what they want or don’t want, or what’s going on in their heads. We’re talking about you. Just you.”

Steve nodded again.

“Do you want to be with them?” Steve tried to protest. “It doesn’t matter what they want this time. I know that sounds selfish, but you’ve earned just a little bit of selfishness. You keep trying to do what you think other people want and what other people need, and no wonder you’re so fucking tired. And you know what, if they decide one day that they don’t want you, fuck ‘em.” Steve stared at her, usually so calm and stoic, but now he could feel the anger and emotion buzzing off her skin. “If they don’t want you, they answer to me. So I’m going to ask you again, and you gotta be honest. Remember, you told me you were always honest.” She smiled at him. “Do you want to be with them?”

Steve could feel his heart thudding dully in his ears, at the tips of his fingers; numb and feeling everything at once. Natasha’s small hand on his face pulled him back from the twisting road of thoughts and fears in his brain and he tried so hard to do as she said. Forget everything else, if only for a second, for a breath.

Steve nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steeb, you need some self-love lessons my precious dumb blond baby. Also, who thought all this stuff was going on with Sam/Clint/Natasha in the background before Sam showed up? Probably none of you, because ~~I'm a bad writer~~ this is from Steve's POV, and Steve is completely distracted by his own angst. Phooie, if I had time I'd write more about those three, but I have no time, I shouldn't even be writing this fic.


	35. Chapter 35

“Hey, did you have fun with Sam? Jarvis told us where you were.” Bucky said as he and Thor walked into the living room from the kitchen as the elevator door slid closed behind Steve. He toed off his shoes at the entryway and stepped into the apartment proper. “We have some leftover dinner, if you’re interested.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve sighed.

“You okay?”

 _I’m fine._ It’d be so easy to say. But he was not fine. He had not been fine for a long time.

Instead of speaking, he stepped up to the two of them. His hands shook at his sides — _just like last time_. Hecould feel their body heat he was so close. They stared, unmoving as Steve stepped into their personal space. He could not even look at them. He touched the back of Bucky’s hand with his, his fingers ghosted the skin on Thor’s wrist. It was quiet save for the sound of their breathing. He stared at the floor and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know—“ he sighed, struggling to find the words, flustered and inarticulate. “You two don’t— I’m not— I’m sorry I don’t know what I’m saying…”

“Steve,” Thor whispered. Thor brought his hand up to Steve’s cheek and Steve leaned into the touch with a sigh, because this time he wanted to lean into the touch; that alone felt like a revelation.

“Steve,” Bucky said. “You don’t have to know what you’re saying. We just— are you saying yes or no?”

Steve reached up and held onto Thor’s forearm, like a lifeline. With his other hand, he took hold of Bucky’s hand, warm and calloused skin electric against Steve’s.

“Yeah, Buck, I’m saying yes,” he gasped. He looked up and saw Bucky’s eyes, and looked and saw Thor’s eyes, and swallowed. “And I think I’m fucking terrified.”

Thor and Bucky both laughed softly at that and the tension was gone. All Steve felt was warm, his face flushed as he chuckled along with them, something in his chest releasing. He stepped in mere centimeters closer and was touching Bucky and touching Thor and it felt safe.

“Us too,” said Bucky softly.

“May I?” Thor asked, tilting Steve’s head up a fraction of an inch. Steve met his eyes and nodded. Then Thor was kissing Steve, half chaste, half passion, and everything Steve had been needing. He pushed flush against Thor’s body, and held onto Bucky, holding his wrist tight in one hand, knowing now he’d never let go. It was all stars behind his eyelids, and electricity crackling under his skin. When Thor was finished, Steve pulled back to take a breath and was immediately pulled into Bucky’s embrace. Their lips touched and it was fire, and steam and—

Bucky pulled back suddenly with a gasp.

“Buck?”

“It’s okay, it’s okay— I just—“ he took a shuddering breath and Thor patted him gently on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m okay.” He cursed softly under his breath. “I might have to take the back-burner here if you guys plan on going all the way. The thought makes my brain— I’m sorry, I—” he looked away, and the heat died a little, dissipating into something half comfortable and easy and half bitter and frustrated.

“I wasn’t planning on hittin’ a home run with you two tonight,” Steve said to the ground self-consciously after a moment when they all caught their breaths. “Not yet, anyway,” he added. Bucky groaned.

“Don’t talk about that or I won’t be able to think of anything else.” He ran his hand up Steve’s side, causing him to shudder, but then snorted. “I’ll strike out.”

“Well, Thor can be a relief pitcher.”

“Your bases getting loaded, Rogers?”

Thor pulled back minutely, “Are you two speaking in code?”

“It’s just baseball slang, Thor,” Bucky said.

“The game?”

“Yeah. We’ll take you some time.”

Steve laughed out loud at that; the idea of Thor at a baseball game with the two of them. It would be so… _normal._ And this was clearly anything but normal.

“Listen, Stevie. We’ve been waiting for you for so long. So how far do you want this game to go?”

“No. It— it’s not a game, Buck. If you think it is—“

“I’m just talking sports metaphors still. Don’t worry, I know what this is.” Steve saw it was true in his eyes. Some fear, some hope, something electric all burned behind his the bright blue Steve knew so well.

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

Thor held onto Steve’s neck, hand thick, gentle and warm, and it almost made Steve feel small again. He leaned down towards Steve’s ear “How would you have us? We can wait. Until you’re ready?”

“That night we—“ Steve closed his eyes finally letting himself think about the night he and Thor had spent together long before any of this had ever happened. When he thought that it was just a one-night stand, when Bucky was still missing, when Thor was inside him— “That was too much, too soon.” Thor nodded next to Steve’s face. “But we could—“ he gasped when Bucky’s hand trailed underneath Steve’s shirt, and Thor’s ran over Steve’s chest.

“Tell me when to stop,” Thor murmured. He ran his hand down Steve’s chest and Steve blushed as he went further and further down, passing Bucky’s hand on his waist. He gasped again when Thor reached between his legs and lightly rubbed him through his pants. Steve fisted his hand in Bucky’s shirt to steady himself. He nodded at Thor fiercely. In return Thor squeezed ever so gently and Steve moaned, leaning into the two men as his knees threatened to give out beneath him.

“God, the noises he makes.”

“You have no idea, Barnes.”

“So Steve? Third base huh?” Steve was not so far gone that he couldn’t roll his eyes. “How about we do this lying down? It’ll be the best game of your life.”

“So far, you mean.”

“You should see him in all his glory, Barnes,” Thor leaned over and nipped at Bucky’s ear; Steve could hear Bucky’s breath catch in his throat. “He is truly a sight to behold.”

Steve leaned back to steady his breath and watched Thor and Bucky start kissing in earnest. None of the fear, none of the envy flared up this time, thank god. All Steve could do was watch and admire the two men. Working past his lizard brain, the artist in him flashed ideas of light and dark, silver and gold, but he could not think those through. Thor at some point had taken Bucky’s left hand in his own; the metal glinting in the low light, looking almost warm intertwined with his fingers, with Thor’s golden skin. Steve blinked at it, something churning up inside of him, then turned quickly back to stare at the two of their faces together instead; that was safer, that was better.

“God, if you think I’m something you should see the two of you,” he whispered to the two men. They broke apart and smiled at Steve, looking happy, looking hungry. 

“Yeah? We kinda got to know each other a little,” Buck replied. “When we were waiting for you.”

_Oh._

“W-wow.” The image of the two of them together shot straight into Steve’s abdomen, clenching and warm and shocking.

Bucky leaned in to whisper into Steve’s ear, and Thor stepped around them to lead them into the bedroom. “We would talk about you,” Bucky said, pushing Steve backwards, hard body flush against Steve’s. It was a wonder Steve did not fall down right there on the floor in the living room, but Thor’s hands on his back, on his waist, on his shoulders as the men traveled through the apartment kept him upright. “When we did anything, Thor told me about your time together. Some of the things he did to you. And let me tell you the things _that_ did to me, Stevie.” Steve bit back a keen as they stumbled into the bedroom.

Bucky pulled back and stepped away, leaving Steve panting leaning against the doorframe.

“It’s better now that you’re here,” Bucky said.

“Well that’s—“ _blatantly untrue,_ his mind whispered. He looked away from the two men with a huff, feeling the weight of their gaze on him.

Steve did not notice that Thor had stepped towards him, “It is better now,” he whispered into Steve’s skin. “That you are here.”

He took Steve’s hand and brought him to the bed. He cupped Steve’s face and kissed him lightly, softly, reverently. Something in the room changed then. Steve’s muscles relaxed minutely under his skin. _He wants me._

The backs of his legs hit the bed, and with a light touch from Thor, Steve reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head, and then sat down on the bed, looking up at Thor, who smiled at him softly, warmly. The mattress dipped behind him, and Steve felt Bucky’s lips graze Steve’s skin at his shoulders, light and warm. Steve closed his eyes and leaned back into Bucky’s chest craving more contact. 

But then once again Bucky pulled back.

“Are you alright?” Thor asked.

“You’re taking the reins on this one, Thor. I think I’m better off watching this time.” Steve felt guilty, but something about Bucky watching Thor take him apart made him shudder on the bed. “I keep seeing—“ Bucky trailed off.

Steve pulled in a deep breath. “Bucky, we can stop if—“

“No. It’s fine. You deserve this.”

 _I really don’t,_ Steve thought.

“Besides, you’re in good hands.” Bucky smiled back up at Thor. “Lie down, Steve. It’ll be fine.”

Steve lay back on the bed, the sheets cool against his skin, socks slipping on the blue downy comforter beneath him. Thor sat down next to him and ran a hand through Steve’s hair, and it was all Steve could do to not moan and fall into the touch. Bucky sat on the other side, and curled his hand around Steve’s bent leg. Steve met his eye and Bucky leaned his face against Steve’s leg, and placed a small chaste kiss on Steve’s knee. It was intimate, it was pure and Steve shuddered at it, shuddered at the unfiltered, unstruggling smile Bucky shot at him as he settled in to watch. _He wants me too._ Steve could only smile back.

Thor kissed him, and it was everything he needed, and still not enough. He was firm, but gentle, holding Steve down like he was not a super soldier, like he couldn’t just push Thor back and through the walls even. His tongue, his lips, his breath on Steve’s skin; it was dreaming, floating, fighting, lighting through his body. Would he be covered in lichtenberg scars everywhere Thor’s hands ran over his skin in the morning? Steve reached up, and held onto Thor’s hair, his broad shoulders, desperate for more contact.

Thor still held him down, chuckling as he broke away from the kiss.

“He’s so eager, is he not?” Thor asked, looking at their bedmate. Bucky’s eyes were dark and wide at the sight.

“He always did jump headfirst into things.” Bucky ran a slow hand up and down Steve’s thigh, ghosting down between his legs but not quite making it where Steve really, desperately wanted it. An honest to god whimper fell from Steve’s lips before he could stop it. Bucky and Thor’s eyebrows shot up and Steve looked away with a soft curse, covering his face, feeling his skin grow impossibly even hotter with embarrassment.

“Do you think we can make him do that again?” Bucky asked Thor. Steve turned in time to see them grin conspiratorially at each other. Thor ran his hand warmly over Steve’s abdomen.

“Perhaps. We have all the time in the world to learn what sounds we can pull from him.”

“I’d like that,” Bucky said, meeting Steve’s eye, and Steve almost could not hold eye contact with him. “We could spend hours and hours just learning what makes our boy tick.” _Our boy,_ the words were butterfly flutters in his stomach. He clutched at the sheets under his hands as Thor started planting soft kisses at Steve’s neck and collarbone. 

“But not tonight,” said Thor, between kisses, and Steve almost felt relieved. “Our Steve is nearly there.” _Nearly where?_ Steve could barely think straight. _Our Steve._ It was as if new synapses opened in his brain with those words, and Steve was just struggling to keep up with the electric flares of data passing through the new neural pathways.

Thor ran a hand over Steve’s chest, brushing his nipples, and that was almost too much, and he jerked on the bed under the other mAns’ touch with a loud sound, half moan, half gasp.

“I think he liked that.” Thor hummed low in his throat, and very softly brushed against Steve’s nipples once more, and another moan tore from Steve’s lungs.

“I studied your file, Steven,” Thor said, as he started playing with one of Steve’s nipples in earnest, one and then the other, back and forth, as casually as if he was tapping a pen during one of the Avengers’ meetings in the conference room. Steve struggled not to squirm and failed. “It said after you were infused with your serum, that your very senses were stronger. Your very skin might more sensitive to touch. You feel everything more.” He pinched Steve’s nipple, and a soft whine came from Steve’s throat, and he was sure he was going to tear the sheets balled up in his hands.

“Now you’re just teasing him,” Bucky said.

“Perhaps a little,” Thor chuckled.

His grip on Steve’s body grew more firm, and he held Steve at either side of his ribs, and slowly kissed a trail down, down, down Steve’s stomach, hands firm, intent clear, movements deliberate. He stopped at Steve’s hips, mere centimeters away from his cock.

“God, Thor,” Steve cried out. “Is this punishment for making the two of you wait for me to decide? I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Shh. Hardly, Steven, don’t be sorry,” Thor murmured back, voice so low Steve could feel it reverberating in his skin more than actually hear it. He looked up Steve’s chest and met his eye. “I’m merely making sure you’re actually here.” He breathed in Steve’s skin, “That this is not just a very, very good dream.” Steve sighed and sank deeper into the bed beneath him.

Then Thor’s nail scraped across Steve’s nipple once more, “Though perhaps we can revisit punishing at a later time.”

“Oh god.” Steve’s hips bucked up of their own accord. He was pressed back down into the mattress again, Bucky’s hand on one hip holding him stead, and Thor’s hand inching down and slowly playing with the line of skin where his hips dipped under the denim of his jeans.

They had barely done anything to him really, when he thought about it later. Wandering hands, whispered words, dancing fingers, and yet there he was, quivering on the bed. It was anticipation coiling up inside of him, and maybe Thor was right. Maybe he was just feeling everything more than a normal human.

Bucky undid the button and zipper on his jeans, and Steve’s socks slid against the sheets a little as he adjusted and tensed and quivered. Thor kissed down lower and lower, and his hand reached into Steve’s pants, under his briefs and—

Thor had Steve’s cock in his warm hand and Steve wondered at the miracles of anatomy that he did not come from that alone.

“Look at you, Stevie,” Bucky whispered.Steve moaned, loudly. _There’s nothing to see, I’m ninety pounds, pale and sick and—_ His hand shot up to cover his mouth, but Bucky pulled it away. The metal brushed the skin of his wrist for an instant, bringing Steve back to the present, this instant, this breath, this body, his body, his fault, and Steve would have thought about that until—

Thor ran his tongue along the underside of Steve’s cock and Steve moaned again. Thor started an excruciatingly drawn-out pattern of pumping with his hand followed by maddeningly deliberately slow licking. He would envelop the head of Steve’s cock, but only for a moment before pulling off and laying almost chaste kisses along the side.

“You should see this, Steve,” Bucky’s voice sounded from far away. Steve’s head had flung back and he stared up at the ceiling, at the headboard behind him, desperately seeking purchase with his hands, with his feet. He might not survive this if he looked at what Thor was doing, and couldn’t Bucky see that? Bucky was holding him still, and Thor was an anchor in the sea and the reason for the storm in the first place. Then Thor swallowed Steve down entirely, and started slowly bobbing up and down on his cock, holding Steve by the hip to keep him from thrusting up into the Asgardian’s mouth.

He was not going to last long; Thor’s mouth was hot and wet and just like Steve remembered and then so much more, because now Bucky was watching, and Steve had let go and let them in this close in the first place, and—

He reached down and tapped at Thor’s shoulder, he was so close. He was going to come. Then of all things, Thor turned to face him, mouth still on Steve’s cock, still bobbing maddeningly; he met Steve’s eyes, and—

_“Oh god!”_

Steve was coming and Thor just drank it up as Steve fell back onto the bed with a loud cry. Steve could not remember coming that hard before, and he saw lighting flash behind his eyelids and heard the thunder of his blood pounding in his ears.

His bones melted into the bed as he came down from his orgasm. From far away he heard the sound of someone moaning, and when he finally opened his eyes he saw Bucky and Thor together on the bed, lips locked, rutting against one another standing on their knees, hands in each others pants. Steve was helpless to do anything but watch.

Bucky pulled back and whispered, “That’s what he tastes like?” so soft Steve might not have been meant to hear it.

“Aye, as good as you, and all the better for waiting.”

_Thor knew what Bucky tasted like._

Steve watched as Thor pulled out Bucky’s cock and Bucky did likewise with Thor’s. They pressed even closer together and something glinted in the dim light. Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around both of their cocks and started pumping. Thor groaned into Bucky’s neck and Bucky flung his head back, gasping as Thor bit down hard into the pale flesh at Bucky’s shoulder. This was different, less gentle, less patient, a little feral, amazing and almost violent but desperately wanted by the two of them. Steve was frozen watching it. He kept looking down at the metal hand, feeling a shudder pass through him. Within moments, Thor came, biting down even harder into Bucky, and Bucky a moment later, grasping at Thor by the hair, holding painfully tight to the blond locks. 

They slumped down, gasping, and after catching their breaths met each others eyes and smiled. Steve could have been invisible in that moment. He self-consciously proceeded to tuck himself back in his underwear and zip up his pants, never taking his eyes off the two of them. They kissed once more and to Steve’s shock, Thor lifted Bucky’s hand to his mouth by the wrist, and licked the metal fingers clean.

Bucky and Thor turned to look at Steve with warm eyes after that, and Steve felt himself turning away under their gaze, his heart thudding dully in his chest.

“All that and he still gets shy.” Bucky crawled over, and placed a chaste kiss on Steve’s brow, holding his head in his hands so gently. “God Steve, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing you come.”

Steve could not say anything. Bucky’s metal hand was still warm from Thor’s ministrations, which Steve was very grateful for, though he couldn’t say why. Thor slid up next to Steve on his other side, and lay a warm hand on Steve’s stomach.

“Are you alright?”

 _I’m fine._ Steve nodded, taking a shuddering breath. He swallowed and forced himself to relax.

“He’s perfect,” Bucky said. He kissed Steve again, on the forehead, on his cheeks, his eyelids. “Perfect.”

“Stop,” Steve whispered. “I’m not.”

Bucky pulled back and met Steve’s eyes. There was a little bit of hurt, and something else Steve did not want to identify; _not pity, don’t be pity._ But he nodded, “Okay, Stevie.”

“Rest, both of you,” Thor said. He patted Bucky on the hip, and Bucky slid down and wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist, and Thor did the same on Steve’s other side. He was bracketed between them, and felt simultaneously safe and petrified. He made himself breathe, in and out, in and out, processing everything that had happened, examining idea after idea, circling, circling.

Thor ran a hand through Steve’s hair and turned his head to face him. “You are thinking too much. Save that for the morning, perhaps? If not for your sake than ours? For Barnes’s sake. It would not do to have us worry about your fretting the whole night. Not when things are finally as they are meant to be.”

Steve nodded, “Okay. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Do not apologize. You worry because things matter to you. Because there are things that are important to you. That is better than having nothing matter at all.” _So simple._ Steve nodded once more, sighing and sinking into the sheets, into the arms wrapped around him.Steve closed his eyes, warm and sated and within moments was fast asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could just end it here, maybe a few more chapters of porn, but oh no, my brain has other plans. My brain is the worst.


	36. Chapter 36

Steve woke the next morning to Bucky laying at one side of him on the bed, hand stretched out over the sheet reaching for Steve but not quite touching. When the three of them had broken apart in the night, Steve could not say. Buck was almost off the edge of the bed he was so far away. Steve reached over and touched him gingerly on the shoulder, but he was out cold. Steve turned and saw the other side of the bed was empty. Oddly, the only thing that let him know that Thor had not disappeared entirely was his cellphone sitting on the night stand. It still had Tony’s Avenger’s brand “Thor” themed case on it, complete with little red cape. It just made this morning feel weird. Steve stared at it for moment, unable to take it in, feeling every bit the man out of time that he was, before he heard the clattering of pans from the kitchen, and softly got out of the bed to see what it was.

He grabbed the phone and padded through the apartment, pulling on a sweatshirt he found draped over a chair in the corner of the room. He was still in his jeans, still in his socks. As he reached the kitchen he paused, staring into the brightly lit room. Thor stood at the stove, his back to Steve, cooking eggs and bacon in a large pan. As he pushed around the food with his spatula, he reached over and took a large gulp from a mug of coffee.

Of all the mornings Steve had ever had, this very well could have been the weirdest.

“Would you like some coffee?” Thor asked smiling over his shoulder. “Stark has gotten us the larger machine at last. I’m envious; my wing of the tower only has the strange pod machine. I’m new to this drink but that does not seem quite right, does it?”

“I’ll help myself. You just… keep cooking, I guess.”

He walked around to the coffee machine, setting Thor’s phone on the counter as he passed; poured himself a mug, added some cream and leaned against the counter next to Thor, watching him work on the eggs.

“They teach you how to cook eggs on Asgard? Part of your prince training?”

Thor snorted. “No. It was Jane who taught me how to cook eggs. And pancakes, but you’re lacking flour.”

Steve blinked. He had met Dr. Foster when he was living in DC. She had a conference to attend, and Thor had tagged along. The three of them had dinner together. It was nice.

“How’s she doing?”

“She is well, though busy. And she worries about you, and Sargent Barnes.”

“Why would she—?” Thor turned and met his eyes. Steve bit his lip. “What have you told her?”

“Everything.” 

“Everything?” _Everything?_

“Yes. Everything” Thor held eye contact for a moment longer before Steve looked down at his cup. “She knows about our time together. Knows about Sargent Barnes. All our quarrels, our struggles and aches. Though I have yet to update her on last night. I hope you do not mind. She is my closest confidant here in this realm. I keep nothing from her, nor does she keep anything from me.”

“She doesn’t mind?”

“Not at all.”

“Are you and her still?” 

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure she’s okay with—” He gestured to himself and vaguely in the direction of the bedroom.

“Yes. She’s encouraged it.”

Confirmed: This was definitely the weirdest morning Steve has ever had.

Steve stared at Thor, considering the possibility that he was still asleep and this was all some strange dream.

“She did?”

“Yes, she did.”

“And she’s okay with—“ _everything? even_ “—with what we did _that_ night?” Steve cursed himself for still not being able to say the words out loud. The night the two of them had spent together months ago was something Steve could barely voice to his friends, barely give words to in his mind, let alone go into detail about.

“Hmm. That was something she taught me as well.”

“What?” _What what what what?_

“I’m not sure this is decent talk to have over breakfast.”

“Well, maybe not. But that night was something else. The sparring alone was dangerous, and then what we did? What you did _to me?_ Are you saying you did that to Jane? What were you thinking, Thor? I could barely handle that! That’s not how you treat a lady, you of all peo—“

“I did not do that to Jane. She did it to me.” Thor’s eyes twinkled as Steve choked on his words. “It was an experience, to be sure.”

Steve breath caught in his throat suddenly thinking about Thor, completely debauched, sweating, quivering and forced down with mental will alone. “You’re right, this isn’t the kind of thing we should talk about over breakfast.”

“What isn’t the kind of thing we should talk about over breakfast?”

Bucky had stepped into the kitchen, running his hand through his hair and making a bee-line for the coffee pot and helping himself to a mug. He stepped over to Thor and leaned in to see what he was cooking. Steve saw the vague remnants of where Thor had bit him last night peak out from under his shirt. The sight left him biting his lip and turning away, steadying his breathing, focusing on breakfast, on coffee.

“The relations between myself and the lady Jane,” Thor answered him.

“Is that Jane Foster? The science gal? I read about her in your file.”

“The same.”

“What’s the matter? Is she— you know— kinky?”

“Christ, Buck!” Steve stared at him, and Bucky nonchalantly stared back, raising his eyebrows as he took another sip of coffee.

“Clint taught me that word, Steve. You gotta incorporate new vocabulary into your vernacular or you’ll never grow.”

“‘Dominant’ was the word she used,” Thor said with a chuckle. “She spoke of relinquishing control. It was illuminating.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all. It’s always the quiet ones.”

“She is hardly quiet.”

Steve choked on his coffee. “This isn’t real,” he said. “I’m still sleeping and this is all just a strange dream.”

“Why were you talking about that sort of— Oh, oh my god. Is that what you guys did when you—“ Steve balked as Bucky laughed out loud, throwing his head back. “Christ, Thor, you didn’t mention that part.”

“We were engaged in something else when you asked, if you recall. I was too busy to include the details.” Thor grinned at the two of them, and took a fork to flip the slices of bacon over.

Bucky chortled, “God, Stevie, no wonder you were so twitchy.” Their eyes met and Steve knew instantly that Bucky did not believe that at all. Bucky could read him like a book.

“I wasn’t twitchy,” Steve muttered back, looking at his mug of coffee.

“Don’t be embarrassed. That stuff is intense.”

“Yeah, and how would you know?” Steve asked without thinking, snappish and blushing. His heart flipped. He wanted to eat back the words. He thought of anything and everything that could be the answer to that question. How would Bucky know about that sort of thing? Did he learn about it willingly, unwillingly, under hypnosis? There were mentions in some of the files recovered since Bucky had come to the tower. The interview conducted by Cameron Addams, Natasha and Clint. Steve did not like to think about it. Did not want to think about it. It slipped.

Bucky shot Steve a withering look before taking a sip of his coffee. “I’m older than you, Stevie,” he lied magnanimously. Not, _I was tortured a lot more than you ever were, Stevie. Not even the fun kinda torture, huh punk?_ Bucky would waggle his eyebrows and Steve would see that dead look in his eye that his friend did not have before, that he really did not want to ever see at all. That thankfully did not happen this time. “Much more experienced,” he continued. “It’s like when I slept with Betty Herbert before you slept with… _anybody_. I just know more. Wizened, you could say.”

Steve let out a low breath, rolled his eyes at Bucky and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from the other two.

“I can’t believe you did that with him, Thor. Must’ve been really something else.”

Steve was certain his face could not get any redder until Thor chuckled and said, “Hmm, it was.”

The room grew quiet. Thor and Bucky both turned simultaneously to look at Steve.

“He always did like following orders,” Bucky said.

That sent a jolt through Steve’s body. He felt suddenly very small beneath their gaze, as he took a minute step back, bumping inelegantly into the counter. A drop of coffee was jostled out of his mug and splashed against his hand, and he hissed, shifting the mug to his other hand and shaking the coffee off.

Thor leaned in and whispered something in Bucky’s ear and Bucky smirked, and whispered something back. Steve could not hear them, and he was clenching and unclenching his fist against the burn of the coffee. Bucky set his mug down, and stepped over to Steve. And before Steve could process what was happening, Bucky was sucking on his fingers, cleaning off the coffee. Steve gasped, and all but threw his own mug on the counter and clutched the edge of it desperate for a lifeline as Bucky licked his skin. He grabbed Steve’s other hand and placed it on his chest. Steve could feel his heartbeat. It was growing faster and faster, and Steve vaguely knew that Bucky would be pulling back when it was too much soon, but right now he was there, his mouth was—

This morning was so unexpectedly weird.

Steve’s lips parted and he almost let out a soft moan, and he wanted to just give in and—

 

All three of them jumped when Thor’s phone chirped loudly; a nun at the school dance for all intents and purposes. Then Bucky’s phone beeped out as well. Bucky stepped back and reached into his pocket while Thor reached to the counter for his, leaving Steve reeling over what had just happened. He could feel the cool air against his fingers where Bucky’s mouth had just been; his skin was almost buzzing with it. The two of them both read the message, then simultaneously shot Steve an apologetic glance.

“Hydra activity upstate,” Bucky said softly. “Three civilians dead so far.”

“Damn,” Thor sighed, turning off the stove. “Eat some eggs, Barnes. Quickly.”

The two moved fast and efficiently, while Steve was left dumbstruck just watching. At some point between gathering weapons, strapping on body armor and confirming details with the others, Thor had slipped Steve a plate of of eggs and bacon. He stood there dumbly, holding the plate speechless. _Wait._

They got into the elevator before Steve’s mind started working again, and he all but threw the plate down on a table as he darted after them, slipping in just as the door was closing. Bucky was pulling his hair back, and Thor handed him a hair tie to finish the job.

This morning was so weird.

The elevator sped up to the landing pad, and Steve stared at the two of them trying to process. “You both can’t—“

“Steve,” Bucky whispered. “This is part of the job.”

“But I just—“ _I just got you both, we just started, what if—_ “What if something—“

“If you think I have any intentions of dying this day after finally having you here with us now, you are sorely mistaken.”

“No one intends to die, Thor!”

“Steven, we must go. You know we must.”

“Then I’m—“

“You’re grounded, Stevie. Listen, this isn’t that big a trip. We’ll be back by tonight.”

“Bucky—“

“It’ll be fine.”

Having that lie thrown in Steve’s face felt like a slap. He realized he probably deserved it after saying the same thing over and over these past few months. The elevator doors opened, and they were on the landing pad, and Steve was left to just see them off. Clint, Natasha and Sam walked by with a nod, Sam smiling and punching Steve lightly on the shoulder as he passed, and Tony in the Iron Man suit checked their communication links. Bruce was standing there yawning, a mug of tea clutched in his hands, to see them off. Before they left, Bucky closed the distance between him and Steve, clearly about to kiss him, but Steve flinched just a little, enough to stop Bucky from trying in front of the others.

“Sorry,” Steve whispered.

“It’s alright, Stevie. We’ll see each other in a little bit,” Bucky whispered back as he turned away to walk after everyone else. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m—“

“ _Don’t!_ ” Steve interrupted. “Don’t say that. Not that.”

He nodded. He inhaled, exhaled. “Okay. I’ll see you tonight.” He reached down and gave Steve a squeeze with his left hand, and Steve forced himself not to move, not to flinch, as the cold metal touched him. It was such an innocent gesture, and it made Steve’s blood go icy. Then he was gone, joking with Clint, shaking Sam’s hand professionally.

Thor met Steve’s eyes, “Nothing will happen to him under my watch.”

“You don’t know that. And—“ He stopped himself. _You, what about you?_

Thor sighed, and clapped him on the shoulder before he followed Bucky up the ramp of the quinjet.

“Wait,” Steve whispered. _Wait, wait, wait, wait, god wait, please wait, give me a minute, wait—_

The plane was gone, Iron Man flying after it.

“You okay?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I’m fine.” _I’m fine, I’m fine._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I be frank? I personally don't think Steve should be pursuing any sort of relationship other than platonic at this point in his life. Just sayin'. Kid needs some therapy. Hot cocoa friend-dates. Movie nights with extra popcorn...


	37. Chapter 37

“Captain Rogers, Mister Stark would like to inform you about recent developments regarding Project Kermit, and would speak to you in private at your discretion.”

Jarvis’s voice sounded out into the apartment, as Steve dug through the drawers in his kitchen for a towel, wrapping up a bag of ice and walking it over to Bucky.

“What the hell is ‘Project Kermit’?”

“Jeez, Buck, sit back down.”

Bucky flopped back down on the couch, wincing, hand on his ribs. Him and Thor came back from the mission in upstate New York covered in dust, grime and blood, exhausted and nursing a total of three broken ribs, two of which were Bucky’s. Thor was in the shower and Bucky was waiting his turn.

The right side of his face was a black and yellow bruise; _“Going face first in a wall will do that, Stevie,”_ he had said when Steve met him and the others on the landing pad. Steve only really got the bag ice just so he would not have to look at it in the apartment. _“Lady of Lourdes, Barnes, don’t brush me off like that!”_ Steve had snapped, retaliatory, angry, terrified. Bucky’s exhausted, extinguished look made Steve bite his tongue and scoff. Bucky had been about to snap back when Thor stepped between them, drywall and cement dust stuck in his hair, and on his skin, making him look older and grayer. He did not say anything, but him being there was enough to shake them from their ill mood. They never used to be so angry with each other. Sometimes something Pepper said to him would float in his mind; _that’s why we yell. Because we’re scared._

“What could Stark possibly want?” Bucky asked, gingerly pressing the ice to his face. “He’s the asshole that messed up in the first place. Does he have an off button?”

Steve winced; he had seen the unexpected explosion that knocked both Thor and Bucky through a cement wall over the security feed he was watching with Bruce. No one knew what caused it, but Tony had taken credit for it. He never explained, just mumbled, “Shit. My bad.” before pulling himself back up to standing and limping back into the fight. All in all, it was a frustrating, unsuccessful mission. Some the Hydra agents had escaped, and there was no clue as to why they had been at the abandoned factory in the first place. Even Bucky had no information on the place.

“Stark can wait.”

“No,” Bucky groaned. “Shit, you better go see what he wants.”

“You guys just got back.”

“And we’ll be here when you return,” said Thor walking in behind them, toweling off his hair. “Though possibly not able to do much good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go, Barnes needs to shower, and the sooner you leave the sooner you can return. It would do us good to have time to lick our wounds. Especially with you here hale and whole.”

“I—“

“It’s fine, Stevie.”

“Just wait until I’m back… to lick… other things.”

“Did you just make a sex joke?” Bucky asked, eyes minutely brighter.

“No, I just failed at making a sex joke. I’ll be back soon.” He waved, face red and stepped into the elevator to the sound of Bucky and Thor chuckling.

* * *

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

“What is ‘Project Kermit’?”

“It is all the data you and Mister Stark have been gathering regarding the Gamma-monoxide Orb.”

“And why is it called ‘Project Kermit’?”

“It is a reference to Jim Henson’s Muppet character Kermit the Frog, first introduced to American television in 1955. Unquestionably the most famous character of the Muppet franchise and the only Muppet from ‘The Muppet Show’ to crossover onto the Public Broadcast Television show ‘Sesame Street.’”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with the orb, though.”

“Allow me to access relevant archive footage,” Jarvis said. Steve waited a moment. The glass on the wall of the elevator to his left shimmered a little and Steve turned and saw Jarvis was projecting [a video of a green puppet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4ZxxHbJGbY). Music played in the background, and the puppet started singing.

_“It’s not easy being green…”_

Steve stared, confused as the puppet — _Kermit, a Muppet,_ his mind supplied unhelpfully — continued his song. The frog — _Kermit, a muppet. What is a muppet?_ — walked through a forest half talking, half singing about being, well, green.

“This is a kids’ show right?”

“Correct, Captain.”

“It seems kind of… depressing.”

_“You’re not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water, or stars in the sky…”_

“It is actually a song about self-acceptance. Though, according to Pepper Potts, ‘it’s no Rainbow Connection’ and it is written in my protocols that her opinion is valued much higher than anyone else at Stark Industries or living within the tower.”

Steve did not know what ‘Rainbow Connection’ meant either. “I guess so.”

_“But green is the color of spring. And green can be cool, and friendly-like…”_

The orb was green. _Of all the green things to reference, and this is what Tony chooses?_ Steve sighed.

He wondered a little about the things he had missed during his time in the ice. — _“Why wonder?”_ Kermit sang. — He probably would have liked this show if he had seen it as a kid, or even seeing it as an adult with kids of his own. Or would the timing had left him watching it with grandkids? He huffed out a sigh, and forced himself not to think that way, it would only make him start spinning in circles of ‘what ifs’ in his head. He always ended up with the idea that he would have had a little girl, who would marry Bucky’s son. He would be thinking of names if he wasn’t careful — _Sarah Margaret_ — and he would be left nothing but bitter.

The elevator slid to a stop at the floor to Tony’s lab, and the projection shut off. Steve stared at the glass wall for a moment before shaking himself and stepping out and down the hall into Laboratory 2. As usual Tony was sitting in front of a large screen, tapping away at projections and data abhorrently fast.

“Tony, I’m gonna propose that projects should be named after pop culture references we all understand.”

“Well then we wouldn’t have any mutual pop culture references at all. Though, admittedly, this might have been something you needed to grow up with.”

Tony turned around from his screen, sporting a huge black eye, and a large gash above his eyebrow dripping blood down the side of his face. Steve cursed under his breath and hurried over and grabbed the roll of paper towels from the table and started to mop up the blood. Tony swatted him away. “Ow. Stop! Bruce is coming down in a bit, he’ll clean me up me. He’s got nice, gentle doctor hands.”

“Jesus, Tony, what the hell happened?”

“You saw the footage. Explosion.”

“I thought you were wearing the suit.”

“I had the visor up, I needed to see something.”

“I thought you saw even better with the visor closed? The heads-up display? What could you have possibly needed to see?”

“That.” He pointed over to the table, nodding for Steve to walk over and examine it. With a sigh Steve flipped open the box, and stared down at a glowing pink orb.

“That’s a new color,” he said dumbly.

“Miss Piggy to our Kermit.”

“I don’t—“ he sighed, letting it drop. “Made out of the same stuff as the green ones?”

“Initial scans say yes. Jarvis and the HUD said yes, but I had to see it with my own eyes. And still gotta do a lot more tests though. There’s obviously something different with it compared to the other ones.”

“Well, yeah, it’s pink,” Steve said.

“Okay, technically you’re right, so I’ll give you that. It also explodes when it touches the green one.”

“Is that what happened? You just touched them together?”

“Yeah. I wrote it down, so it’s all sciencey, but it means we’re no closer to figuring out what these things are. I thought maybe they would have some sort of, I don’t know, good-er reaction. Just went crazy instead.”

“I kind of assumed we decided that they’re energy sources. Not as strong as the tesseract maybe, but—”

“I’m honestly at a loss, Steviepoo. And that’s saying something, because I am never at a loss. They’re just glowing orbs. I couldn’t even say how to get energy out of them. We knew with the tesseract, but these are different. They float sometimes if you hold them in the air the right way, but otherwise are harmless, and kind of useless.”

“Don’t call me ‘Steviepoo.’”

“But then they explode. Maybe it’s because of interior decorating. Green and pink don’t go together? But Kermit and Miss Piggy are obviously meant to be together, and I’m not changing the names. It’s not my worst guess, but it’s close.” He sighed. “I got nothing. They’re identical in makeup, but one’s pink and one’s green. I can’t even tell why one’s a different color than the other. I don’t know. I literally do not know at this point.”

“Do you think it’s time to talk to the others about this?”

“And tell them what? We’ve got glowing things we don’t know what to do with and my science can’t figure out? Which I’ve been stealing and hiding from Hill and Fury bee-tee-dubs.”

“Bee-tee—?” He sighed. “They might see it differently. We’re allies with Hill and Fury we don’t report to them any more. And it’s tesseract-esque—“

“Try saying that five times fast.”

“—so maybe Thor would know something, or could ask someone on Asgard. And hell, it’s Hydra who has ‘em; Bucky or even Natasha might have some input, at least as to where to look next.”

“I guess.”

“You just don’t like being stumped.”

“Not a bit. Now that my face is a mess, my brain is definitely the money maker here, and it’s not doing much good.”

“I’m sure Pepper won’t mind that rugged, bar-fight look you got going on right now.”

“She’s seen it too many times. The novelty’s worn off. Nobody likes seeing their people hurting. That’s just human nature.”

Steve thought of Thor and Bucky upstairs, all broken ribs and bruised bodies. He had snapped at Bucky when he came back, sure, but only because his stomach had somersaulted in his abdomen at the sight of them. Steve knew if he had been there he could have stopped it, should have stopped it, _should’ve stood between Bucky and Thor and the blast—_ “Yeah, I guess not.”

“Yeah.”

“So, we’re telling the others?”

“Maybe in a day or two? Maybe three? Maybe a few weeks? Still got some more tests to run.”

“Just don’t make anything else explode, alright?”

“You’re the boss.”

“I think the boss is supposed to go on missions with you guys. Not sit around and do nothing.” _Not just sit around when it should have been me thrown back into a damned wall._

“You ready to get back in?”

“Maybe? It was rough seeing you all leave this time.” _It was rough seeing Thor and Bucky leave after I finally got them._ “I don’t even know what to do to get un-grounded.”

“We can talk about it in the meeting. Or I’ll bring it up with the others first, get back to you?”

“That might be good.”

“You gotta want to do it for the right reasons though.”

“Which are?” _Protect Bucky, protect Thor. Protect everyone, even if—_ “Because you want to fight the bad guys, and make the world safer. The Avengers Credo? We need a credo, I think; a mission statement. That’d be nice. Make newbies have to recite it during hazing season, naked on the roof.”

“Right. On that note, I’m heading back up.”

“See ya.” Tony waved him off, turning back to his screen before Steve had even started walking out.

Steve paused and turned to look over his shoulder. “Miss Piggy?”

“A pink pig. Kermit’s girlfriend.”

“Right. That makes sense. Take care of that cut, Tony.”

“Sure thing, Cap.”

* * *

Steve sighed, and made his way to the elevator. Jarvis was thankfully silent on all things Muppet related, and Steve leaned back against the wall as the elevator climbed ever higher to his floor. He stepped out into the apartment to the sound of low chuckling. Bucky and Thor sat on the couch, half asleep, talking quietly.

“Hey,” Steve said softly as he walked up to them. Bucky and Thor smiled up at him from the couch, making something in his heart clench.

“Steve, Thor doesn’t believe me,” Bucky said. “I told him in France they eat frogs’ legs.”

“You jest with me, I know it,” Thor said softly. “Just like when Clint said your great pyramids were built by aliens. I have met their very Midgardian architects, I can assure you they are perfectly capable of such structures.”

“You met the Egyptians?” Bucky asked incredulously.

“The frog thing is true, Thor.” Steve said. “Sorry.”

Thor shuddered. “I would avoid those if we are able? Yes?”

“They also eat snails.”

“It might have been better if my people had not left yours to do what they will. Clearly some of you have lost your way.”

“You might be right,” Steve sat down on the couch next to Thor and the three of them were quiet for a moment, staring ahead at the shiny, modern fireplace that Steve had never bothered using.

“Glad I’m not a frog,” Bucky said. Steve and Thor turned to stare at him. “I took some leftover pain meds, I might not be making a lot of sense.”

Steve leaned back down on the couch, feeling more tired than he should have. After all, he was not the one to fly to a Hydra base. He did nothing but fret and annoy Bruce the entire time they were gone. “No, that’s fine. I’m glad I’m not a frog either,” Steve said at last.

“I don’t know. It would not be too terrible,” Thor murmured.

“It’s not easy being green.”

The soft words were out of Steve’s mouth before he even knew he was talking. Now it was Thor and Bucky’s turn to stare at him. They spoke together, “What?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They said I couldn't do it. They laughed. They said I couldn't make the Muppets an integral plot point in my fic. They. Were. Wrong.
> 
> Look who's laughing now. Muwahahaha!


	38. Chapter 38

_Steve shivered in the cold as snow bit against his skin. Flake, after flake, after sharp, stabbing flake. He was standing on a great cliff overlooking a dark, icy expanse of land. A gust of wind came, pulling his shield from his grip and sending it flying over the cliff; he went from wearing his uniform to stripped down to his underwear by the wind, exposed to all the elements. He curled in on himself, bracing against the cold. Steve looked around him but could only see the storm, wind blowing snow into his face, cutting bloody scratches into his skin. It hurt so badly._

_He screamed but no sound came out._

_Something moved out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw a creature; all teeth, hot breath steaming in front of his feral maw, fangs dripping thick drool and blood onto the snow below it. Bigger than a bear, coiled tight like a tiger ready to spring, six legs with mean claws, grey matted fur made brown with old viscera. It was not looking at Steve._

_Steve saw Bucky and Thor lying on the snow nearby. He screamed but no sound came out. Steve ran towards them, standing between the two men and the beast. He knelt by their bodies, shaking them. Wake up, please wake up, we have to go! but they did not wake. He saw Mjölnir on the ground and tried to pick it up, but it stuck firm to the ground no matter how hard he pulled._

_But then, as he watched his hands on the Mjölnir’s handle, he saw his skin shifting. The color changed in front of his eyes, and starting from his fingers and working up his hands, his wrists, his arms his skin was changing; turning hard, turning chrome; cold against his muscles. Turning into metal plating._

_He screamed but no sound came out._

_The beast was close now. Ready to attack, mouth open wide, stalking towards Thor and Bucky. Steve moved between them and the beast, naked feet slipping on the cold ice; knees crashing to the floor coming up bloody. He looked in the beasts eyes and saw nothing; they were cold and empty and dead._

_“I’m sorry. Please don’t do this. I’m sorry,” Steve said to the beast._

_The metal plating still grew up his arms, moving towards his shoulders, over his neck down his chest, up to his face. He clawed at it trying to stop it, but the metal kept growing, pulling at his skin. He screamed but no sound came out._

_It was so cold. The snow came harsher, the wind blew harder._

_A loud sound came from beyond the cliff. Both Steve and the beast turned to look. It was rushing water, a massive, hundred-foot tall wave of salty, ice-filled ocean racing towards them._

_“No. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”_

_The beast roared in his face; loud enough that Steve covered his ears; metal clinking against metal. He screamed but no sound came out. The beast flung him aside with a large, clawed whack; cutting large gashes into Steve’s stomach, sending him flying through the air and scraping across on the ice floor, burning his skin as he landed. Then it jumped over to Thor and Bucky, teeth bared. It started eating them. Steve heard their bones crack and their flesh rip and—_

_“No! NO! NO!” Steve screamed, but no sound came out. “Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”_

_The water was coming, so close, so close._

_“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your—“_

_The water hit them; icy cold and familiar, rushing into his lungs; chilling and clinging and turning from black-blue to red as it filled with blood; Thor and Bucky’s blood. Steve screamed but no sound—_

* * *

Steve jerked up on the bed with a shout, scrambling back on the sheets, slamming his back into the headboard. Warm hands touched his face, and a whimper tore from his mouth uninvited. It was too warm; electric burns against his skin, _and the beast,_ _and the beast, it’s here. Wake up we have to go, please._

“Shh. Steven, just a dream. It was just a dream, love,” a low voice said.

Steve was panting, clutching at the skin on his arms, nails digging into the soft flesh _— skin, not metal; just skin —_ nearly drawing blood. Warm hands pulled his fingers away from his arms; holding his hands softly. A warm hand ran through his hair.

“It was just a nightmare,” Thor said, finally meeting Steve’s eyes. Steve finally saw him. Not dead, not eaten, no blood. Steve’s breathing was slowing down; his heart thudding less madly in his chest. “You are safe. Just a dream.”

Steve looked around; just his bedroom. No ice, no snow, no water, no beast. Thor’s hand on his face and neck brought him back down. He nodded, finally relaxing into Thor’s hands; adrenaline leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He bit back a curse and his head thunked on the wooden headboard behind him. He reached up and held Thor’s arm, gripping it like a lifesaver in the ocean. He gasped for air; his lungs still were working, no asthma, no water. He nodded at Thor once more.

“Do you wish to speak of it?”

_You didn’t wake up._

Steve shook his head, and looked around the room once more. His eyes finally fell to the bed where, on Thor’s other side, Bucky was snoring. _His medication,_ a little voice told him. _Makes him sleep like a log._ Bucky never used to sleep so deeply, Steve mused. And not dead either, not eaten, no blood. Steve sighed, exhausted, relieved.

“How can I help?” Thor asked.

“I’m fine,” Steve said, ignoring the weary look Thor shot him. “I think— I just need to walk it off.” He slid off the bed and out of Thor’s arms. Thor bit his lips and looked away. “Was it— was it bad?” Steve asked softly.

“You were screaming, Steve. I could not wake you at all.”

“I’m sorry.” _I’m sorry, please don’t do this._ Steve shuddered remembering the dream. _Why had he kept saying that?_

“Do not apologize.”

“I shouldn’t’ve—“

“Hush. You cannot stop your dreams.” Thor took his hand, skin so warm. “Are you sure you wish to go? I could accompany you.”

“No, someone should stay with Bucky. I just need—“ he did not know what he needed. He was buzzing under his skin; his stomach churned and— “Food. I just need to grab something to eat, settle down. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Thor nodded, turning then to look at Bucky, still holding Steve’s hand. “I worry about his medications. I worry he does not dream at all, or worse, his sleep too heavy he cannot escape them. You were screaming and he did not even rouse; you called out his name and mine and still he would not wake.”

Steve frowned; Thor looked tired. Steve leaned down and pressed his lips to Thor’s brow, cupping his head in his free hand. “Thor you can’t help that, he needs the meds.”

“I merely—“ he stopped himself, sighing. “He deserves better. You both deserve better.”

“We’ve got you. How much better can we get?” Steve asked lightly, smiling against Thor’s skin. Thor huffed a small laugh, squeezing Steve’s hand. “You deserve better too,” Steve whispered. “Will you be alright?”

“Oh yes, worry not,” Thor replied. Steve saw in his eyes it was not entirely true. They both sighed. Steve did not know how to fix this.

Steve leaned down to kiss him. Thor’s lips were warm, and the kiss innocent enough, but it felt like a small release; the tension was gone. Thor patted him on the shoulder and lay back down on the bed, sliding up behind Bucky. Steve knelt on the bed, leaned over Thor and pressed his lips against Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky still did not wake. Steve got off the bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants over his briefs and found a t-shirt on thrown on his chair. Then he murmured across the room that he would not leave the tower and Jarvis would know where he was if Thor needed him. He turned out the light, hearing Thor’s breathing turn even once more against Bucky’s skin.

* * *

He ended up going down the common area, bare feet padding on the carpet as he headed towards the kitchen. Something clattered and he froze listening, adrenaline spiking once more. Then he heard the refrigerator open and close and a low voice say “Jarvis, can you make sure we get more eggs?”

“Of course Mr. Wilson,” Jarvis replied.

Steve sighed, relaxing and stepped around the doorway into the kitchen seeing Sam there in his pajamas, mixing something in a bowl.

“Hey,” Steve said.

Sam turned, dark circles under his eyes. “Hey yourself,” he replied. He wiped a smudge of flour off of his cheek and Steve snorted, moving to sit on the high stool by the counter. “You alright?”

“Oh, yeah. Just—“ Steve sighed. _I’m fine._

“Bad dreams?” Sam guessed. Steve was almost relieved.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.” Sam went back to stirring whatever was in the large mixing bowl, adding in some eggs one at a time. He passed a smaller bowl over the counter to Steve and pulled out a whisk. “Mix that up will you? It’s all supposed to be sifted together, but I kinda don’t give a fuck right now. Whisking is good enough.”

“What are we making?”

“[Brownies](http://postgradfryingpan.blogspot.com/2014/06/damned-good-brownies.html).”

“Good.” Steve glanced over at the green LED clock on the microwave; 3:47 in the morning. He started stirring the flour and cocoa powder, whisking all the ingredients together until it was a uniform pale brown. He passed it back to Sam who started pouring it slowly into the egg and sugar mixture he was working on. “Do you need to talk about it?” Steve asked.

“Nah. You?”

“Nope.”

They were quiet. Steve watched as Sam stirred the batter together, throwing in some chocolate chips and working them in thoroughly. It was meditative, probably even more so for Sam. Steve had weird, vague thoughts about the act of creating something new floating around in his head, but he was also exhausted so none of them took hold for very long. He folded his arms on the counter and rested his head on them, still keeping Sam in sight. Sam moved around the kitchen and in a moment a glass of milk was sitting in front of Steve, and the brownies were starting to bake in the oven. Sam settled down next to Steve with his own glass, and they sat quietly drinking milk, staring around the kitchen, smelling the first wafting hints of cooked brownie hitting their noses as time passed. Their shoulders were touching; it anchoring and real, grounding Steve; keeping him in the now, rather than back on the icy cliff.

“Do you do this often?” He finally asked.

“Bake?” Sam asked. “A little. It’s my mom’s fault; grew up with her stress-baking and picked up the habit. It was worse when Riley—“ he stopped, biting his lip. “It was bad for a while. Was giving shit away, I made so much; my kitchen looked like a damned bakery. But I settled down, the nightmares didn’t happen so much, or if they did I could go back to sleep. But sometimes—“

“Sometimes not?”

“Yeah, sometimes not.” Steve let out a low curse under his breath and finished his milk. “What about you? I don’t remember you having many nightmares when we were doing our road trip?”

_Road trip;_ the dozens of missions they spent out looking for Bucky, ending with the one that nearly got Sam killed. _What a nice way to put it._

“I don’t know. Haven’t been remembering my dreams that much lately. Little nightmares sometimes, but I wake up, I take a leak, go back to bed. This one feels like it came outta nowhere.”

“That happens.”

“Yeah.”

They fell quiet once more. The timer for the brownies finished and Sam put on a pair of floral oven mitts and pulled them out, setting them on the counter to cool. He refilled their glasses of milk and sat back down. They stared at the brownie pan in silence, lost in thought and exhausted.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The brownie recipe is actually from my very neglected cooking blog. It's just a 'back of the box' recipe, but it is so good. Sam Wilson would make those brownies; Sam Wilson knows those are the best brownies to ever brownie.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **HEADS UP:** This chapter has mentions of past rape, as well as some canon-typical violence that happens during sex. See end-notes for a more detailed explanation.

With shaking hands and awkward moves, Steve, Bucky and Thor tried to have sex. “Have sex” was not the right way to describe it though, at least in Steve’s mind. It was closer to desperate fumbling and skirting around hairline triggers. Steve insecure, Bucky petrified and Thor hesitant. All of them sometimes not even believing this could work.

That first night they were together was the farthest they had gone, and their only successful attempt. Bucky insisted they could keep doing things just like that, but Thor and Steve would not hear it.

At first, they simply kissed, passing each other around while sitting on the bed. Thor always kept a steady hand on Bucky’s arm. Bucky would kiss Steve until his heart rate rose too high — Steve could hear it pounding when they were close enough — and he would pull back, gasping, all but hiding behind Thor, scrambling and confused, terrified. He was so afraid of losing control.

“I’m fine, but then I’m feeling everything at once,” he once said gasping, and Steve understood but at the same time could not even wrap his head around it. Thor would kiss Bucky, murmuring him back down, murmuring that it was not his fault; then Thor would kiss away the hurt confusion that Steve could not keep off his face, murmuring it was not his fault either. _But it is._ They slowly made progress, night after night, losing shirts or pants, ghosting touches, wandering lips, goosebumped skin. Usually ending their nights frustrated or just too drained and falling back on the bed to sleep.

* * *

What Steve had been thinking of as ‘their first time’ but was really just a first attempt was a horrifying disaster.

Thor was holding onto Bucky as they sat together, back to chest, on the edge of the bed, and Steve had been kissing down Bucky’s neck. Thor ran smooth hands down Bucky’s arms and ran his lips down the line of Bucky’s neck on the other side. As Steve knelt down between Bucky’s legs, and slowly pulled his pants down he looked up at the two of them, taking in the image. Bucky’s head was flung back on Thor’s shoulder, and Thor smiled against Bucky’s skin. Bucky’s blue shirt standing out against the pale skin of his neck, and the golden skin of Thor behind him. Steve let out a shuddering breath. They were both perfect. When Bucky’s pants were out of the way Steve had to steady himself by kissing up Bucky’s thigh before he finally opened his mouth and took Bucky’s cock.

Bucky gasped. The sound shot though Steve, and both he and Thor moaned together. Steve spared a quick glance up and while Bucky’s eyes were closed and he writhed quietly against Thor’s chest, Thor’s eyes locked on Steve as he bobbed up and down on Bucky. The piercing blue eyes knocked the wind out of him for a second, and Steve almost stopped, before Bucky let out a soft whine, pulling Steve back to the task at hand. He did not look up for a few more moments but peeked up later and saw Thor dutifully watching Bucky, running a comforting through the assassin’s hair. A feeling washed through Steve that he could not identify. 

Steve’s hand made its way between Bucky’s legs, cupping his balls. Steve started letting himself go, feeling barriers fall down as he breathed in Bucky’s musk and tasted salt skin on his tongue. This is Bucky; this is what Bucky tastes like, _and it’s perfect._ He remembered Thor’s trick from what felt like thousands of years ago; from their night together. He wrapped his hand around Bucky’s cock and pointed a finger up as he bobbed up and down, he swallowed his finger with Bucky’s cock, wetting it. He pulled his hand back and weaved his way between Bucky’s legs, finding the tight muscled ring of Bucky’s hole.

Bucky’s whole body tensed, but Steve barely noticed it as he continued to lick and suck Bucky and started circling Bucky’s entrance.

Suddenly Thor’s strong hand shoved Steve by the shoulder, and Steve fell back onto the floor behind him.

“What—“ he started to snap but paused when his eyes caught sight of Bucky. 

Bucky was pale and trembling, eyes unfocused, pointed at the wall behind Steve. His erection was fading fast, and Thor had pulled back and around, slipping off the bed and bending down to try and look him in the eyes.

“Barnes, it’s alright. Whatever it is, it’s alright.”

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“I do not know. He grew cold to the touch, tense, sweating. Did you do anything?”

“I was just— I just—” Like a splash of ice water in the face the realization hit Steve. “I was just touching him _there_ , prepping him to—”

Thor’s face fell as he realized too what Steve meant. Bucky sat motionless save for the occasional shudder that ran though his body on the bed, still staring, still locked in a memory.

“Oh god.” Steve felt sick. He inched forward on his knees. “Bucky, oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. We didn’t know.” Steve could practically hear Tony’s sardonic voice in his head, _“Well looks like someone won’t be bottoming!”_ and cursed silently over and over as he tried to snap Bucky out from his stupor, too frightened to touch him. Wracked with guilt, and completely at a loss Steve stayed in front of Bucky merely waiting, trying not to breathe. Thor stood next to them, hands held up placatingly as he moved nearer. 

After a few weighted moments, an eternity, a minute or two, Steve put his hand on Bucky’s knee. Bucky twitched underneath him. Bucky’s mouth finally opened, “Don’t— please don’t.”

Steve fell back on the floor and slid away to the far wall; horror burning into his very veins.

* * *

Their ‘second time’ was not much better.

When Steve and Thor firmly established that no one would be fucking Bucky — _“Not yet! But maybe. Please, I didn’t know that would happen. We can try again, Steve! It was good until—“_ Bucky had pleaded after the incident, but Steve had his doubts — they tried once more. They had fallen back into clothed kissing sessions, and Steve was secretly relieved, but also frustrated. He _was_ twenty-six. After a few tedious nights, Steve held his breath and jumped. He pulled off his shirt and all but tackled Bucky onto the bed, ravenously kissing down Bucky’s neck, heating things up, nipping at his collarbone. He pulled up, gasping for breath when Thor pulled him by the back of his head into a hungry, frantic kiss as Bucky moaned at the sight.

Hands were suddenly everywhere. Thor’s huge warm ones ran along his stomach and Bucky’s smaller hot hand across his chest. The two murmured above Steve’s head and Bucky crossed over Steve’s body, and he was suddenly in the middle, pushed down on the bed on his back as the two worked in tandem to push his pants down from his hips and freeing his cock.

Because of the new position, Bucky was now running over Steve’s skin with his metal hand. It was a cold bite compared to Thor’s warm skin. Steve forced himself not to wince. Bucky’s lips were on his and he tried to concentrate on that. Thor’s lips were on his neck and he tried to concentrate on that. But soon Bucky’s hand made its way down to Steve’s member, and Steve jerked as the metal touched him. It was growing warmer from running along Steve’s skin but Steve still shuddered at the unyielding touch.

“You alright?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, it’s—it’s fine. I’m fine. Come on.” Steve pulled Bucky’s mouth towards his trying to kiss away the hesitation in his eyes. Bucky acquiesced, but did not stop touching Steve with the metal hand. Steve felt his erection dying in Bucky’s hand, even as Thor’s hand was there cupping and rolling his balls. Steve attacked Bucky even more hungrily, pretending away his unsettled nerves.

Thor pulled away for a moment, hand sliding up to pinch one of Steve’s nipples, and Bucky started rubbing Steve’s cock in earnest. The image of Zola hacking away Bucky’s bloody stump and attaching the arm filled his mind. He could hear Bucky screaming as they took him away piece by piece. With the new knowledge gleaned from their last attempt at sex, Steve now had the image of that hand doing things Bucky would not and could not consent to, or worse, shut off so it was dead weight leaving Bucky unable to fight.

He was hit with a wave of nausea. He jerked away from Thor and Bucky. He slid back into the head board, scrambling against the sheets. He broke out in a cold sweat, gasping.

Thor and Bucky froze on the bed staring and a hot flush of humiliation ran through Steve. Their hands were up as if they were placating something wild, and Steve almost laughed.

“Steven?” Thor asked at last. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Steve said. _No god, I’m not fine._

Thor closed his eyes, and his shoulders sagged just a fraction of an inch, but Steve and Bucky still saw it. “You keep saying that. You don’t need to lie to us. Tell us what’s wrong.”

“What? I’m fine. I’m fine.” He was so focused on Thor — _on lying to Thor_ — that he did not notice Bucky reaching towards him until it was too late and the metal hand touched Steve’s shoulder. He jerked violently with a yelp as the now cold again metal hit his skin.

“Steve?” Bucky asked.

Steve stared at the metal arm. He could not meet Bucky’s eyes anymore.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” His eyes closed, but the glint of cold silver stayed, burning in his retinas, stinging his eyes. “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.” _I’m fine, I’m fine._ Steve felt the bed shift, and heard Bucky walk out of the room. Eyes still closed Steve’s head thunked back against the headboard, grateful he did not see the betrayal that would have been so clear on Bucky’s face. “Damn it,” he said, feeling the burn of a sob try and tear through his lungs. “God damn it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Thor said. “You have been through much—“

“No, damn it. That was— I shouldn’t have—“

“You could not know what would happen.”

Steve jumped out of the bed and stalked to the bathroom, giving Thor a dark look that he did not deserve. “You two should have just left me alone.” _You would’ve been better off._ He closed the bathroom door behind him, and slumped against the wood, sliding onto the ground in silence.

* * *

The third time was arguably the worst.

The third time the Winter Soldier came out.

 

Steve was naked first. The other two were always so thoroughly invested in getting Steve naked first. It almost made him laugh, and there was always a thrill of doubt, of vulnerability until he remembered his body was not his body anymore. He was not the pale, thin, fragile person he used to be.

They were making him feel everything everywhere. Bucky had put a leather glove on his hand, and it was just enough that Steve could pretend away the distress he felt. _“It’s not a big deal, it’s just cold,”_ Steve had lied. Now unimpeded by dubiety Bucky started to explore Steve’s body in earnest. The leather glove was texture, and Bucky’s hands were strong. He heard Bucky open a jar of lube and felt his flesh hand move down between his legs.

Thor slid up and knelt by Steve’s head, running a hand through Steve’s hair. Steve opened his eyes — _when had he closed them?_ — and looked up to see Thor’s cock, thick and full on his thigh, inches away from his face. Did he just not notice how huge it was before? _Mary and all the saints._

In tandem with Bucky lifting Steve’s leg over his shoulder, and working a finger inside of him, Steve twisted onto his elbow and took Thor’s cock in his mouth. Thor groaned above him as Steve started sucking him, sloppy and wet; mouth loose as he moaned and rocked into Bucky’s finger moving inside of him. Thor reached over and took hold of Steve’s cock and it was all Steve could do to keep sucking, and focus on not coming

“God almighty, Steve,” Bucky whispered. “You’re so tight.” Steve gasped around Thor’s cock, blind with lust. “Was he like this when you were with him Thor?”

“Aye,” Thor said through a groan, running his free hand through Steve’s hair, before moving down and pinching Steve’s nipple. Steve keened. He was feeling everything, _everything_ so much. And this was it. They were finally doing it. Bucky was going to— it would be right—

“And now, it’s your turn,” Thor whispered. Steve was almost in tears.

Bucky’s hand shook inside of Steve, and Steve moaned when Bucky added a second finger, stretching him wider. It burned a little, but Steve did not care, he was lost and he liked the pain.

Then Bucky pressed against something inside of him, and Steve jerked, almost losing Thor’s cock from his mouth. He would have screamed if he could have, as a jolt of sensation shot through him from Bucky’s fingers.

Thor, in a magnificent show of self restraint, pulled out from Steve’s mouth and Steve nearly whimpered at the loss as he flopped back down on his back while Thor puttered around the bed.

“Where did you put the condoms?” Thor asked. Steve almost giggled at an Asgardian god saying the word ‘condom’ but Bucky curled a finger in that perfect, just-right spot and Steve ended up groaning instead. He was so far gone nothing made sense anymore. Jane emailed them about condoms before; the idea of it floated around his head. That was almost funnier.

“They’re not in the drawer?” Bucky asked above him, far away. He slowed down, — and _God_ , was a small part of Steve grateful for that — settling by Steve’s side. He did not pull his fingers out from inside Steve though, and ran his left hand, with the leather glove, up Steve’s chest, ending at the sensitive, bite-marked, beard-burned skin of Steve’s neck where Thor focused his attentions on earlier. “Try the bathroom, maybe?”

“Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, we’re doing great? Right Steve? They should be on the counter.”

Steve could only nod as Bucky’s thumb ran over his jaw and inched it’s way into Steve’s mouth. Steve tasted the leather on his tongue, and keened around it, heady with the need to suck it down, feeling the unyielding metal through the glove. Then it was gone, and Steve felt the hand move towards his neck, pinning him down while Bucky’s fingers were moving methodically in and out, rubbing Steve’s prostate at each hit.

“Don’t move.” _Don’t break._

_Oh._

Then Bucky’s fingers wrapped around his throat.

_Oh._

A loud moan pulled itself from Steve’s lips as Bucky increased the pressure on his neck, and he could only get barely enough oxygen through gasping breaths. Steve did not think he could get harder, but there against his stomach, Steve swore that even more blood was rushing down between his legs, making his dick full and leaking pre-cum. Bucky noticed and pulled his hand from inside Steve and started working up and down his shaft instead. Steve whimpered at the loss inside him, but could do nothing as Bucky held firm. Steve gripped the sheets beneath him, heels digging into the mattress to push himself up into Bucky’s grip, only the faintest of whines coming through his mouth now.

Bucky squeezed harder on his neck and Steve could not breathe at all. His vision started tunneling and he stared up at the ceiling lost in wave after wave of intense feeling. It was pure adrenaline. Better than bruises or broken bones, and it was Bucky, Bucky, _Bucky_. And like his time with Thor, it hurt, and it brought him to focus in a way he had not been able to achieve for months, if not years, if ever at all. And it felt like punishment. It felt like he deserved it. That was what the metal hand was built for. He wanted more. He wanted to give this to Bucky. _“I’m sorry,”_ he said, not knowing why, but no sound escaped, he merely mouthed the words.

Steve was so close, he was skirting the edges of consciousness and he knew if he could pull a deep breath he might come harder than he ever had before, and that thought sent a thrill of heat through him as well. He imagined screaming while Thor and Bucky watched him fall apart on the bed. Break into a thousand pieces. His vision was going black at the sides of his eyes and the light was dimming. The only things in the universe were Bucky, a hand on his cock and a metal hand in a leather glove on his throat.

“Don’t stop.” No sound left his lips still as he tried pleading for Bucky to keep going, he was so close, he—

“Barnes!”

A flash of skin and Steve was suddenly alone on one side of the bed. He gasped at the sudden loss of contact between gulps of air. He was still hard and he could not see straight and the whole world was far away. He moaned and clenched up around himself, hips jerking up of their own accord before finally pulling himself up to see what had happened as blessed oxygen started reaching his brain once more.

Thor was holding Bucky by the arms on the corner of the bed. At first it was just like it was between them. Thor holding Bucky steady and Bucky leaning into the touch when things grew too heavy. But finally seeing Bucky’s face this was wholly different.

No confusion this time. Not like that night he came into Steve’s bedroom and kissed him first. Steve felt like he could not breathe still, as if the hand was still on his throat. Bucky’s eye were cold and dark, lion-fierce and fixed on Steve.For a brief flash, Steve thought back to the bank where they had found the Winter Soldier footage ages ago. The snake under the lion’s paw. Bucky’s breathing came fast and deep, and Steve felt small in Bucky’s locked gaze. Steve felt his heartbeat thudding in his chest, and felt his cock twitch as he sat prey in Bucky’s predator gaze.

But Bucky’s body was slowly relaxing, and after a moment Steve noticed the almost imperceptible shift as Thor’s grip grew minutely looser. That was a mistake.

Bucky wrenched himself from Thor’s arms and in a single movement, tore off the leather glove from his metal hand and swung at Steve’s face, hitting him squarely in the eye. Steve fell back onto the bed, skull smacking into the headboard.

And Steve came.

White light supernova’ed behind his eyelids, and a guttural cry sounded from his lips as hot cum splattered on his stomach and chest.

Then Bucky was over him once more, holding him down by the shoulder, hand raised to strike him once more as Steve stared up at him in a daze. Bucky was screaming, and Thor finally pulled him back.

Steve finally came to his senses and flung himself from the bed. Bucky was snarling and it looked like Thor was wrestling with a wild animal rather than a man. Steve stepped forward to help hold Bucky down, but Bucky grew even more volatile against Thor’s arms.

“Just go, Steven,” Thor yelled. “Go now! You’re making it worse!”

Steve paused at the side of the bed for a moment, working out what had just happened, but Thor’s words clicked and he guiltily scrambled back and darted into the closet, locking the door behind him. He almost told Jarvis to set the closet into panic room mode, but how long would it take to open again if he needed to help Thor? He listened to the two men tussling outside the door and could do nothing but stand with his hands braced on the door frame, still naked, straining to hear. Thor called out for Jarvis to send one of the in-house doctors with a sedative. Bucky slammed against the closet door at one point, causing Steve to jump back, bracing for the wood door to crash through, bracing for a fight.

He could do nothing as he heard shouts from the doctor and Bucky and Thor, and slowly the fight died down. Steve felt as useless and guilty as he had on the train, crashing from chemicals, endorphins, adrenaline, _arousal_ , all coursing through his veins as he stood naked, alone and cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entire chapter is depicting three separate times Bucky, Steve, and Thor are trying to have sex. No actual rape is depicted in this chapter. The first time the three of them are trying to have sex, Steve starts fingering Bucky, causing Bucky to freeze/have a panic attack, remember what happened to him in the past as the Winter Soldier. The third time something is triggered in Bucky and he turns violent/turns into the Winter Soldier and attacks Steve; choking him while they are having sex. Thor pulls him off and they fight.
> 
>  **Personal Note:** At this point in the story I feel obligated to say that I'm personally believe that all three of these guys are a little too messed up to be doing any relationship stuff at all right now. (Take a break guys, have some cocoa, have some platonic movie nights). In later chapters they're going to be trying again, and after a lot of personal growth, some scolding from concerned third parties, and trial and error they WILL be reaching a point where they will be having healthy sex. It just takes a long while, and some Avengers-themed adventuring to get there.


	40. Chapter 40

Hours later, when Bucky was sedated and lying on the bed, locked in the bedroom, Thor and Steve sat in the kitchen. Steve cleaned the long gashes Bucky had cut into Thor’s arms and body with his nails, and Thor cleaned the gash and now blackening bruise Bucky had punched onto Steve’s face. They sat at the kitchen counter for a long time.

“I wish to say something, but you must know I do not mean to offend,” Thor finally began. He looked to Steve, waiting for permission to continue. He took a breath when Steve nodded expectantly.

“You are fucked up.”

Steve sputtered. He laughed at the absurdity of it, though the sound was dry and rattling in his throat. The observation shook him though. It was entirely true. _What is wrong with me?_

“You’ve been spending too much time with Tony,” he finally choked out. “Pretty sure they don’t say that in Asgard.”

“We have the word, we just don’t use it as creatively as you do here.”

They laughed softly for a moment before falling back into silence.

“This isn’t working, Thor,” Steve whispered after a time, twiddling his fingers on the table. “It’s like you said, I’m fucked up. I’m sorry. You two should just—”

“Do not apologize. All three of us are struggling. All three of us have demons.”

“Maybe that means we shouldn’t be trying to sleep together. Maybe we should just be friends, or less even.” He thought of leaving the two of them and it made his heart ache. The pain of it made him realize that was probably the path he should be taking. That was the responsible thing to do. “I can go. I still have my place in D.C., and Bucky can stay here, heal with Bruce and the other doctors, work with Natasha and Clint. You could go to Jane.”

“Tell me truthfully would you prefer that? Would you not grieve for being separated from Barnes?”

“I would. I just got him back. But it’s the right thing to do.”

“Is it?”

“Isn’t it?” The words came out of Steve’s mouth, but were so soft he could barely hear them.

“If it would hurt you to do so, cause you grief, then I cannot believe it is the right thing to do.”

“It’s not that simple. That’s selfish.”

“It is that simple.” Thor reached over and took Steve’s hand. “I watch you. You try to so hard to do the right thing, even if it means causing you pain. I don’t know what happened, but at some point your heart grew twisted and said you’re not owed any sort of relief or respite from your struggles. But you are. You deserve peace, Steven. You keep fighting, and being a shield for others, but you do not stop to shield yourself from pain anymore. You keep sacrificing yourself for others and cannot see reason. That is why we stopped you from going out on missions, from fighting, that is why Barnes and I stay at your side. We would see you happy and whole. We would see you a little selfish for once; give you pleasure. We would shield you and protect you. I would protect you.”

Steve could not meet Thor’s eyes. He leaned back into the chair and stared at the wall behind Thor’s shoulder. He still felt shaky after what had happened with Bucky. He felt a failure and here Thor was telling him things he did not want to hear. Did not deserve to hear.

“You’re one to talk,” Steve grated out desperately. “You’re really going to worry on me about self-sacrifice, when you sit there as Bucky and I try to fuck? as if it doesn’t kill you?”

“It does not bother me as much as you think it does,” Thor said, words coming out just a little too sharp. “And do you really mean to try and pick a fight with me? Now? You are deflecting; avoiding the subject by baiting me.” Thor’s eyes grew minutely darker, but his low voice stayed even. “I will not rise to it, Steve, I grew up with Loki and can spar with words with the best of them. We are so far beyond petty spats. We will speak like adults.”

Steve, chastised, slumped into the chair. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Thor said. “We are tired.”

They were quiet then for a moment. “What do we do now?” Steve asked into the silence.

Thor did not respond for a long time. He stared at the table, crossed his arms in front of his chest and ran a hand through his beard. “We wait for Barnes to wake. When he is well, we talk, we find out what happened and we try again. He will gain control back, I know it. He is strong and we knew this would be a struggle. If we must wait before we try again, we wait. We work with the Avengers, and we live our lives. And we stay together, because I fear otherwise that we will die alone.”

“It can’t be that easy.”

“It won’t be.” Thor sighed and finally gave Steve a small smile. “Jane says we should do couples therapy.”

“I can’t imagine torturing a therapist with that. It’d just be cruel.”

“Yes,” Thor rumbled. “I said something similar. I need drink. Would you have coffee or hot chocolate?”

Steve opted for hot chocolate and watched as Thor walked to the kitchen to warm the milk on the stove. He moved a little stiffly — _as if he’d just been in a fight,_ Steve realized, because of course what else could you call what just happened with Bucky? — but grabbed ingredients easily under Steve’s gaze. The muscles of Thor’s back flexed under his shirt as he moved, and Steve found himself staring. The liquid grace, even after the tussle with Bucky, was obvious. Like a large cat.

As he finished cooking and handed Steve the mug of hot chocolate their fingers brushed.

“Your hands are cold,” Thor observed. “Come, let us sit more comfortably.”

Steve let himself be pulled to his feet and they moved to the couch. Thor guided Steve to sit and put a blanket over Steve’s lap, and sat down next to him. 

They sat in silence sipping their hot chocolate for a long time.

* * *

“Why did you allow him do that?” Thor asked, finally breaking the comfortable quiet. At some point Steve had moved closer to Thor and Thor’s arm had wrapped protectively around Steve’s shoulder. It was nice. It felt like the first time that Steve could breathe since Bucky’s hand was pulled from his throat. He just wished Bucky was here, not sedated in the other room.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you allow Barnes to choke you? You are strong, you could have easily fought him off.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I didn’t know he wasn’t in control anymore. And he wanted it. I thought Bucky wanted it. I wanted to give him what he wanted, and do what he wanted. And he said…” Steve trailed off.

“What did he say?”

“He said ‘don’t move,’ so I didn’t move. I was— it was— I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Thor gave him a suffering, quizzical look, and Steve felt a flush rising on his cheeks. _No shit you weren’t thinking straight._ Thor patted him on the thigh and leaned his head back on the couch seat, and Steve leaned back as well, staring up at the ceiling, feeling warm and slow from the hot chocolate, feeling Thor’s warm, thick arm behind him.

“Did you enjoy such acts before you and I —“ Thor squinted, trying to find the word “— _coupled_ that night? I told you not to move then, but I did not think it effected you thus. I remember you being so frustrated with the command at the time. But the hurt was the same. You appreciate that now as you did then?”

“I don’t know. That night was… different. I think I needed you to tell me what to do, and then push me to do it, but was too angry to see it. It was like making me take a step forward. But I liked it in there with Bucky. I like the idea of it now. You could have told me to do anything and in that moment I would have done it. Part of me wanted you to.” The last part Steve admitted very softly, face turning red, and Thor’s hand gave his shoulder a soft squeeze.

“And can I now? Or was it just the moment? Just in the bedroom?”

“What?”

“Would you do as I say?” Thor shifted up to stare down at Steve. “Would you let me tell you what to do now?”

Steve looked over and saw Thor’s eyes had gone a little darker, but also a little curious. Steve felt his breath hitch in his throat ever so slightly. He nodded. “Probably,” he whispered.

“Tell me what you enjoy about it.”

Steve let out a small, shuddering breath. “It’s— it’s giving up control. I don’t have to know the next step; I can just go where you say. I just have to do what someone— what you tell me. It feels safer. It makes the world smaller. It lets me breathe.”

“And the pain?”

“I feel like I deserve it.” Saying the words out loud was strange to Steve. Thor frowned. “It feels good.”

Thor reached out his hand to cup Steve’s face but stopped inches from his skin. Steve held very still, eyes never wavering from Thor’s. He finally gave the smallest, most imperceptible nod, and Thor’s fingers brushed the side of Steve’s face. Steve leaned into the touch suddenly desperate for the contact.

“Jane and I spoke of such relationships, experimented,” Thor whispered. “I did not glean the same comfort from it as you do. I loved the challenge of it, the effort to succeed at the given task. But I know something of the relief of pain. I kept such things on the battlefield, but she says that sometimes it comes into the bedchambers.”

The image of Thor lying back, holding still while Jane had her way with him popped into Steve’s mind, _again_. That image was pretty incredible. He stared up into Thor’s eyes, blinking slowly. Their faces were only inches apart.

“She told me that sometimes a lover could become lost in that world. And must be cared for afterwards.” Steve was having trouble keeping his eyes open as Thor stroked his face. “Would you let me?”

Steve nodded.

“Come closer to me.”

Steve slid even closer into Thor, and Thor’s arm wrapped tighter around his shoulders before his hand made it’s way to Steve’s hair, running through it gently, his body warm and solid underneath Steve’s.

“Rest.”

Steve’s eyes slid closed.

“You have done so well,” Thor whispered. _No,_ said a voice.Steve’s stomach clenched at the words. He felt warm deep down in his core, but he could not even comprehend what Thor had said. He spoke once more; “You always do so well.” _No. I’m sorry._ His shoulders trembled under Thor’s arm. He squeezed himself even tighter into Thor’s side.

“It is alright.” Thor held him tighter still and Steve thought he could melt into the bigger man, melt away, disappear. “Just breathe.” Steve breathed and after a little while there was nothing left of him. All he knew was the oxygen in his lungs and the warm body surrounding him, and the sore bruising on his neck. Bruising from the metal hand; and that made sense, it was his fault Bucky lost his arm in the first place.

He didn’t deserve this; this warmth, this safety, this affection. He should leave. Steve gasped; a wet, desperate sound in his throat. “Oh fuck.” He scrambled out of Thor’s grip and to the other side of the couch. He almost stood up to leave, to run away, to be alone, but that sounded even worse. He cursed again and curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his body, fighting the urge to rock back and forth.

“You are weary, Steven.” Thor said, hands raised, as if he was calming something wild; the way he calmed Bucky sometimes, the way he calmed Steve sometimes— and he deserved better than that from Steve. At least Bucky had been tortured, but there was no excuse for Steve to be this way; he should be better. “You are confused. I do not know what troubles you, but perhaps—“ he sighed. “Perhaps it can wait until tomorrow? There is nothing you can do but rest now.”

“You should go check on Bucky,” Steve said looking away.

“He is fine. He is sedated. Jarvis watches over him. I would not leave you now. Or ever. Do you understand? Just rest here with me. Breathe. That is all that is asked of you right now.” He paused, choosing his next words carefully. “Those are your commands. Rest. Breathe.”

Steve let out a small breath; the pressure he felt in his chest was not gone, not entirely, but there was some small click, a release. _An order to follow._ And that was concerning but so damn relieving that Steve did not even think to question it.

Steve nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.” He took a breath, then slowly made his way back to Thor. He put his head on Thor’s leg, where his scar was under his jeans, and curled onto his side into the couch. Thor’s hand ran through his hair, and Steve melted into the touch, forcing his body to relax.

Forcing himself to rest, to breathe.

Thor found the abandoned blanket from before and covered Steve, before settling deeper into the couch, putting his hand back on Steve’s head. Steve closed his eyes and after a few moments fell into a shaky, exhausted sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot cocoa fixes everything.


	41. Chapter 41

Steve stood in the lobby of Stark Tower bouncing on the balls of his feet. He checked his phone — _“No one wears watches anymore, Cap.”_ Tony had said when he first gave it to him — it was still early. He looked outside and saw a fast wind pick up a newspaper page and send it flying down the street. He pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his arms. This was normal, he could do this.

Steve did not _really_ talk about what had happened with Bucky the morning after the incident. He did not talk about what had happened with him and Thor either. The three of them merely concluded that Bucky had just lost control and they would take a breather and try again in a few days. That was the reasonable approach. It did nothing to stop the fact that Bucky would barely touch Steve now for fear of losing control, or that Steve went to sleep next to him and Thor hoping that Thor would tell him to sleep, rather than just let him fall into a fitful, unrestful slumber. To Thor and Bucky it seemed their sex life was merely one filled with small hiccups that would eventually smooth themselves out. To Steve it was massive, and wrong, and right and fraught; everything he wanted and nothing he wanted.

But they thought there was nothing really wrong. So Steve would go through everything as if nothing was wrong at all.

“Hey there,” Sam’s voice called from the elevator. “We got a tagalong. That cool?” Sam and Natasha walked up to him in the lobby, wearing running clothes.

“The more the merrier.”

“Good, we can talk about your problems while we jog,” Natasha said.

“Nat, he doesn’t want—“

“No, I deserve that,” Steve replied. “Ask away, Natasha. You both good with down into the park?”

“Sure. Stop by the diner on the way back? Grab breakfast?”

“Sounds perfect.”

They stepped out of the lobby onto the street. It was still fairly early in the morning, but the city was beginning to wake up. They started slow on the sidewalk, and picked up the pace just a little once they hit the park, starting Steve and Sam’s usual meandering run, turning at random when they felt like it and making their way through to the other side of the park the long way. 

“You both gonna be lapping me?” Sam asked.

“Nah,” Steve replied. “I’m good with slow.”

“Me too. It’s my rest day,” added Natasha.

“Come on, I’m not that slow.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

They ran a little further, the air was cold in Steve’s nose and lungs. He tried to ignore it, and zipped up his sweatshirt. The park paths were a little slick with rain from the night before, but were drying as they ran across. The trees were changing color. It almost looked the way it used to when Steve had lived in New York before.

“You see that project Banner and Stark are working on?” Natasha asked.

“Yup. Seems a bit far-fetched.”

“They’ve been watching too many sci-fi movies. It’s worse than the lightsabers.”

“Yeah.”

The wind picked up a little and Steve threw the hood of his sweatshirt over his head, Sam and Natasha did the same thing next to him. They kept jogging. Their blood was pumping now so it did not feel so cold, but the wind was biting.

“So how’s it going between you, Barnes and Thor?” Natasha asked.

“That was fast. I was expecting a little more small talk.”

“I’m nothing if not efficient.”

“Things are fine.”

“Nope. That’s not good enough.”

“Ask me what you want to ask me then. I’m running, I ain’t gonna wax lyrical in the middle of the park. Be specific.”

“Guys, slow down,” Sam called out a few feet behind them. “I gotta play mediator between you two apparently, and I can’t do that if you’re getting worked up and running like a horse outta the gate.”

“Sorry,” they both murmured as he caught up. They started again at a more normal pace.

“Is the sex good?”

“Nat, come on—“

“What? It’s not a long run, and you’re curious too. You said so last night.”

“Really, Sam? You thinking about my sex life? With Natasha? Bro, come on.”

“Did you just say ‘bro’? This century is not being good to you.”

Steve snorted. He pointed to the left with his chin when they reached a fork in the path and all easily went left, a perfect unit, down deeper into the park.

“Come on,” Natasha wheedled, darting ahead of him and running backwards. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“Fine. The sex has been a little rocky.”

They jogged past a pair of older women in tracksuits walking slowly with their miniature poodles and nodded politely as they went. Steve called them ma’am, and they smirked gave him a wink. Natasha punched him in the shoulder and darted around to Sam’s other side with a giggle as Steve swatted back at her playfully. Sam waited until the women were out of earshot before asking;

“Rocky like you guys don’t know where to put it?—” _“Sam, don’t be rude!“_ “That’s rich, Nat! Or rocky like the fun kinda of rough?”

“Umm. Neither?”

“What do you mean ‘umm, neither’?” Natasha asked. “It’s either awkward or good hair pulling.”

“No. Wrong. There are various shades of rocky,” Steve replied feeling flustered, almost stumbling as he tried to meet their eyes. “And my kind doesn’t fit in with the options you gave me.”

Sam laughed, and Natasha shoved him playfully into Steve.

“So what is your kind of rocky?” Natasha asked.

“The kind where I’m sleeping with an Asgardian and an assassin.”

“Go on.”

“There’s hair pulling.”

“The good kind?”

“Yes, sometimes, but we’re not talking about that.” Sam and Natasha both snorted, and Steve knew his face was not red from the harsh wind against his cheeks.

“So where’s the rocky?” Sam asked. Steve did not respond right away, they ran past a field with a group of people doing yoga in the park, following along as a woman with dreadlocks ran them through the stretches. 

“It’s just a lot of things,” Steve finally said.

“Such as?”

“I don’t know.” He thought about it; Bucky getting triggered into trying to kill Steve while fingering him, was a big one, but Steve was not sure how to word that in a way that was run-friendly.

“What’s the thing you like the least?”

_The metal hand,_ a voice in his mind whispered. He ignored it.

“It’s not that there’s stuff that I don’t like,” he answered carefully. “We just gotta be cautious. And it’s— _frustrating_ , a little bit. I think we all want to do a little more.”

“Steve, are you saying you and your old as balls boyfriends are just big old horndogs with the leash too tight?” Sam asked.

Steve made himself smile, made himself huff out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s what I’m saying.” He felt Natasha’s eyes on his face, so he turned back to the path and stared resolutely ahead as they continued jogging. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shaking her head. They fell quiet; no sound but their shoes hitting the jogging path, and their breath in the air.

“Is that all?” Natasha finally asked, breaking the silence.

“Is that all what?” Steve replied.

“Is that all that’s making it rocky?” Steve did not meet her eye, and took just a second too long to answer. “Steve!” She pulled him by the arm and the three of them came to a stop. Sam leaned forward on his knees, panting, but Steve and Natasha were barely winded.

“It’s not— it’s just a lot of things,” he repeated.

“You’re clearly bothered by something.”

“I’m not— it’s just hard, that’s all.”

“Steve, come on,” Sam said.

“I don’t know what you guys want me to say!”

“Say what’s bothering you.”

“A lot of things are bothering me!”

“Oh for the love of god,” Natasha said. She muttered something in Russian.

“I don’t—“ Steve huffed.

“Okay,” Sam said. “Stop. New tactic. Pretend you’re not sleeping with Bucky—” Steve was going to protest but “—No, man, just hear me out. Two separate people, or something. James, the dude you sleep with, and Bucky, your best friend. You gotta tell us what’s wrong the same way you would tell Bucky, your best friend. That cool? That make sense?”

“Umm.” Steve blinked. “Okay. I guess.”

They started walking back along the path headed towards the diner. “For the purposes of this exercise, Natasha and I are both Bucky, circa late 1930’s, because we’re your new best friends, since you’re currently doing your old best friend, who’s still your best friend, but it doesn’t count right now.”

“You’re Bucky. Okay. Right.”

Natasha snorted. “I can be 1930’s Bucky.” Then her voice went all nasal-y and she waggled her elbows at her sides; “What’s the haps, paps? How ‘bout them Yankees? Gonna go over da pond and give them jerries the old one-two?” Steve and Sam froze, staring at her. Then they both burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Nat. You’re such a dork!” Sam said trying to catch his breath.

“You’re the one dating me, Sam. You don’t get to talk.”

Steve was bent over, clutching his side, wheezing.

“Okay, maybe that was a bad plan,” Sam said wiping his eye. “We should eat first.”

“Whatever, Sam. I’m funny.”

* * *

“And can we get two extra sides of pancakes please?” Natasha asked the waitress with a smile.

“You hungry, Natasha?” Steve asked.

“No, you are.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, but no, of course she was right. He was actually always hungry these days. The serum did that, but it was also his fault. When he had been working with SHIELD he fed himself just fine, even with the extra calories he needed from his enhanced metabolism, but now it almost did not seem to matter. He could not bring himself to care. His stomach rumbled loud enough that both Sam and Natasha turned to look.

“And can we get another side of bacon?” Sam called after the waitress as she walked off. The woman nodded and wrote it on her notepad.

Steve sipped at his mug of coffee and looked out the window.

“Well?” Sam asked.

Steve turned back. “Well what? Sorry.”

“Pretend we’re Bucky, like we said in the park. What would you say to Bucky about what you’re feeling right now?”

“I’m not—“ he shook his head and drank more of the coffee. “It won’t work. Bucky and I have been friends too long— since before we could walk. We have memories together. Shared context. I bring up a problem, it’s coming with all that knowledge behind it.”

“Pretend we have that context. That’s the point. We can figure it out.”

Steve sighed.

“Come on, just say it how you’d say it to Bucky.”

“Fine.” Steve thought about it. He looked back out the window. The clouds were growing a little darker. They might get rained on if they walked back to the tower after breakfast.

“I guess I’d probably say something like, ‘do you remember Marty Jameson? And his wife Mags?’ and Buck would say ‘Well sure, they only lived up the street from us.’ ‘Yeah, but do you remember the way we heard Mags talking to him one time when we were sitting out near their window?’ But Buck would say ‘We heard them loads of times though,’ but he’d know which time I was talking about. I’d say ‘Marty was all fucked up from the great war.’”

“What did Mags say?” Sam asked

“Actually doesn’t matter that much. If it was Bucky he’d know it didn’t matter either. Buck’d say ‘Yeah, that’s true. Marty was fucked up. Lotta guys were.’ And I’d probably just say ‘Yeah, they were.’”

“What would Bucky say next?”

“Don’t think he’d say anything next.”

“Well, that was terribly unhelpful,” Natasha said.

“It would’ve been alright,” Steve said.

“Did it help you? Would that have helped you work through whatever you’re going through?”

“No. Probably not.”

“Then how is it alright?”

“Because Buck’d know something was wrong. That was all we needed back then.”

Their food came, and Sam and Natasha dropped their questioning with a twin sighs, each giving Steve a sapped look.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything else,” Steve said, feeling chagrined.

“Baby steps, Steve.”

“Guess so.”

Natasha pushed over the two extra plates of pancakes and side of bacon, and he had to adjust his cup of water and his coffee mug to fit them on his side of the table. Steve started eating and the conversation turned light once more. Back to Stark and Banner, back to movies and things Steve needed to catch up on — _“Sam, did you know Steve didn’t know Hawaii was a state?” “Oh my god, Natasha. You try cramming 70 years of history and knowledge into three years outta the ice! Things get missed! I know it’s a state now!”_ — and anything except what was happening between Steve, Thor and Bucky. There were not words for what was happening between them. Steve did not have words for what he was feeling.

All he had was Marty Jameson, crying in his living room loud enough that Steve and Bucky could hear it from the sidewalk one night. He was seeing his dead army buddies in front of him, and god, wouldn’t that make anybody scream? and Mags was sitting next to him singing lullabies, and telling him he did not have to do much, just calm down and breathe.


	42. Chapter 42

_Steve saw the knife on the counter and picked it up. Bucky and Thor sat on the high stools eating apricots, watching him. The juice ran down their chins and Steve wanted to lick it from their faces. The juice was red against their mouths._

_Steve asked a question, but no sound came from his mouth._

_“It’s yours,” Bucky replied._

_“But it looks like yours, Buck,” Steve said. “I can’t take away your knife, you need it.” You’re so good with knives._

_“It’s yours now,” Bucky said. “Always should’a been.”_

_“It greets you,” Thor said. “Look how it comes home. It should have been yours from the start.”_

_Their mouths were red with blood. They grinned._

_Steve looked down at the knife and saw it changing his hand; turning cold, turning hard, turning chrome. Metal plates growing up his skin. He screamed but no sound came out. He dropped the knife and started clawing at his skin, trying to pull off the metal. Bucky and Thor grinned at him, as if nothing was wrong._

_“I’m sorry,” he whispered, he screamed._

_The metal plating climbed up his arm and up his neck and reached his face. He screamed and no sound came out. The metal went inside his mouth, touching his tongue, his teeth, his thr—_

* * *

Steve jerked awake, blinking in the bright light of the conference room. The sky outside was dark as the last red rays of the sun disappeared into the twilight. The glow from Jarvis’s displays and projections lit out into the night.

“You alright?” Bruce asked next to him, eyes lifted up from his Stark tablet.

“Umm, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” His heart thudded in his chest, and he steadied his breathing. “Just more tired than I thought I guess.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to wake you until they were in range.”

Steve wiped his face. “How far out are they?”

“Gonna land soon actually, so good timing.”

“Right.”

He watched on Jarvis’s satellite feed with Bruce as the quinjet quietly landed outside a small town south of them.

“We are go for extract,” Clint’s voice said into the room over the communications array. Steve watched the quinjet door open; Sam flew out first circling around and landing on top of a building nearby.

“Still all clear from up above,” Bruce said. “Only a few guys near the front of the building from the heat signatures.”

“Got my J-bot up in the air,” Tony added. Steve could see a tiny circular ball float up from the quinjet door as he spoke. “Should be picking up some security feeds for you to use.”

“Dr. Banner,” Jarvis said. “My scans are picking up several security uplinks. I will project them now.”

On the screen in front of Steve and Bruce, a few different pictures came up; small squares with various camera angles focusing on the Avengers stepping out from the quinjet. The team started walking into the town, silent in the dark night. Steve could see through some of the security feeds when they stepped into the circle glow of the streetlights. Bucky and Nat and Clint were never visible; according to their tracking devices, they had already circled around and were moving towards the target building one block parallel to Thor and Tony. If Jarvis had any security feed on them, they were not showing up in it, which was how they wanted it. On the other hand, Thor and Tony were bright and ostentatious as ever, red and hard to miss. Steve almost chuckled. 

They were the distraction. They were very distracting. Thor was good at that, Steve mused absentmindedly. He watched as the few people on the security feeds took pictures on their phones of the two of them striding down the middle of the small town’s street. A few pictures started showing up on a feed on the side of Jarvis’s display with hashtags.

A few soft commands and information relays and they were in the building. Spies through the back, silently picking up any tech and intel they could gather, and distraction through the front, noisy and flashy. Gunshots sounded through the comms. Sam followed after everyone a moment later crashing through one of the upper level windows.

“Got the target, right where you said she’d be,” Sam said. “How you doin’ girl?”

“God damn it, Sam,” Maria Hill’s voice crackled through his comms device; it had none of Hill’s usual no-nonsense authority. 

“Sam you’re not good at flirting,” Clint said over the comms.

“Sure I am. Maria here’s drinking outta the palm of my hand.”

“Is that because you’re giving her water?” Clint asked.

“And I think something better in a minute,” he murmured. “Let me brace up that neck and I’ll give you some of the good stuff, how about that?”

“That sounds nice,” Maria replied. Her voice was weak; too weak. Steve and Bruce exchanged a glance.

“Guys, she’s worse than we thought; I want her on a stretcher.”

“We’re almost done here; computers have all been wiped. We can come bring the quinjet round and hover over if you want; fly her straight up instead of walking her down the street.” Natasha said.

“That might be best.”

“Thor, Tony, you good with that?” Steve asked.

A flash of light from the front of the building. “Yeah we’re doing good here. Almost done. Just keeping up the light show. Thor’s somewhere in the building, but I think he’ll be out in a minute.”

“Thor, can you confirm?” Bruce asked into the comms.

There was no answer.

“Shit, Hill,” Sam murmured, shaking Steve from his worry about Thor. “What did they do to you, darling? I’m gonna need a second pair of hands up here.”

“I’ll go,” Bucky said. “I’m coming up the back stairs and let you know when I’m there. Two fast knocks, two slow, just in case.”

“I copy.”

“Thor, we need your confirmation,” Bruce said. “Are you up on the new plan?”

Still no response. Steve watched on the monitor as Clint and Natasha ran back towards the quinjet. Thor’s tracking device showed him holding very still deeper inside the building. There were no other heat signatures around him, in fact it looked as if everything was a few degrees cooler.

“Thor?” Steve asked. The tracking device was too still. He watched on the screen trying to force it to move with his mind alone. Steve thought of all the reasons why that could happen. He took it off and set it down or someone else took it off and threw it aside. “Thor, do you copy?”

“On my count, James; on the three we lift supporting her neck. Okay?”

“Got it.”

“One, two, three!” The two men grunted and Maria cried out in pain. Clint cursed over the comms at the sound of it; Steve and Bruce winced from their seats in the conference room. “There’s fresh blood in the quinjet, right?” Sam asked. “I think we’re gonna need it.” Steve’s stomach lurched.

“Yeah, checked it this morning,” Natasha said. “Universal donor for sure, if not Hill’s type.”

“Thor? What is your status?”

There was silence for a few moments over the comms as everyone waited. Then the only sound was Sam murmuring to Bucky and Maria; Clint and Natasha going through the take-off checklist. It was so quiet.

“Apologies,” Thor’s voice finally crackled through the comms device. He sounded exhausted, gasping for air. Steve let out a breath he did not know he was holding. “I met an old friend.” He coughed, violently, and the sound shook Steve in his core. Something was wrong. “I will aide Barnes and Wilson with Lady Hill.”

“Sorry, what does that mean? You met an old friend?” Tony asked.

“Worry not. It is not to be discussed.”

“‘Not to be discussed’? What are you some kinda—“

“Cease your prattle, Stark, for pity’s sake!” Thor snapped.

The comms grew quiet once more. Steve could practically hear everyone’s brows shooting up into their hairlines at the unexpectedly sharp words from Thor. The quinjet was taking off and making its way towards the building. Steve watched as Thor’s tracker started moving once more, slowly and awkwardly deeper into the building and up the stairs towards the others. Steve could not help but feel slightly relieved, but also could not ignore the gnawing feeling in his stomach. _Moving too slow, coughing to loudly,_ something was wrong.

A light pinged on on the screen in front of him. Bruce tapped it and a text box showed up. A private message from Tony.

 **-What the hell was that?** it read.

Steve and Bruce exchanged a look; Bruce shrugged. Steve tapped on the table in front of him and a keyboard appeared and he started typing back as Bruce kept an eye on the others on the satellite feed.

**-No idea. Thor’s tracking device stopped moving for a few minutes.**

**-I’ll have Jarvis scan it when we’re all back on the jet.**

**-If he did not want you to know what happened** —

“Christ, Thor!” Bucky’s voice said over the comms, interrupting them, making Steve and Bruce jump. Steve bit his lip as he listened in. “You’re supposed to try and miss the damn bullets!”

“They merely grazed me. How is Lady Hill?”

“Well we’re going straight to the hospital from here. Maybe you should get checked out too?”

“Thor,” Steve asked. “Are you alright?”

Thor coughed again, violently hacking until he finally answered; “It matters not. I will live.”

Steve wanted to scream. “Thor, you can’t s—“

“I’ll keep an eye on him, Stevie,” interrupted Bucky. “Can’t be any harder than keeping an eye on you.”

“You look like shit, Thor,” Sam added. “What the hell happened?”

“This mission is getting close to the realm of clusterfucks,” Tony said. “Jet’s here. Let’s get Hill in it and get the hell out of here.”

“Sounds good to me,” Clint said. The others all murmured in agreement, and they worked together, clearing their tracks and bringing Maria up to the quinjet. Tony had everyone give him their tracking devices so he could ‘tinker on the way back.’ A few minutes later Bruce and Steve watched as indecipherable data popped up on the screen in front of them; six columns of numbers and coding, one of which started off normally and then had a long stretch of blank space. Thor’s device did not pick up any tracking data at all. Steve could almost imagine Tony cursing and muttering under his breath. He sighed; grateful the mission was over.

Soon the Avengers were gone from the little town as quietly as they came. The small security feed images that Jarvis was picking up clicked off as they flew further and further away.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered into the comms. Steve’s heart flipped.

“What? You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re fine. Sorry. I just can’t find one of my knives.”

 

 


	43. Chapter 43

The others trailed out of the quinjet late that night. They had taken Maria to the hospital; Sam and Natasha were staying there with her for the first shift and someone would be going in a few hours to relieve them. Steve watched as Clint and Tony walked out, Tony’s suit already bundled up in its case. Bucky and Thor did not walk out. Steve stood still for a few moments waiting before finally walking up to the quinjet and stepping inside, fists balling at his sides.

“Thor, what the hell was that out there?” he snapped as he walked up the ramp. 

“Stevie,” Bucky stopped Steve with a hand on his chest, keeping him from stepping any closer. Steve looked beyond Bucky and saw Thor sitting on the bench of the jet, arms curled around his body, face pallid and grey. Someone, probably Bucky had hastily wiped off whatever blood had been on him, but there were still streaks of dried brown marring his skin in places, dark and sick against his skin He looked unbalanced, as if a light breeze would knock him off his seat.

Whatever anger Steve had been feeling faded instantly. He pushed past Bucky without thinking, falling to the floor in front of Thor. Up close he looked even worse. Steve took Thor’s face in his hands, skin cold and clammy, and tried to look into Thor’s eyes.

He felt like a corpse.

_He’s dying._

“Thor? God, Thor what happened?”

“It is not—“ Thor started. He started coughing again, Steve was helpless; all he could do was hold Thor in his arms. Bucky was sitting next to him now, and ran a hand down Thor’s back. “I cannot say. Do not make me say.”

“Okay,” Steve gasped out. “No, no, no, okay, okay, you’re fine. Don’t say anything. You don’t have to say anything. We’re fine. You’re fine.”

“He wouldn’t go to the hospital,” Bucky whispered. “He said they couldn’t help him. He wouldn’t even let the others look at him. He talked to Natasha for a little bit, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. He’s done nothing but get worse, Stevie, and he won’t let—”

 _Shit._ Steve’s mind was racing as Thor shook in his arms. This was not happening. _I don’t know what to do._ The trembling was so violent, Steve wondered if Thor would not just break apart into pieces right there onto the floor of the quinjet. He met Bucky’s stare, seeing his own worry mirrored in the blue eyes above him. _Shit._

“Thor, what do you need?” Steve finally asked. _I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do._

“Rest,” he replied. “Just rest— my chambers— there is a draught.”

“We’ll go there,” Steve said, gratefully. Relieved. He could get Thor to his room; they could do this. He would be fine. “We’ll go there.”

It took effort but Steve and Bucky managed to get Thor standing, all but dragging him along to the elevator, step by slow, painful step. Steve’s heart lurched at every unintentional jostle, every time they stumbled even a little. Thor groaned when they wove precariously through his apartment, and Steve wanted to scream; _what happened, god what happened? I should’ve—_

“The dresser. Take me there,” Thor murmured.

They lurched over, and Thor braced himself against the wooden dresser. He started coughing again, a rough, painful sound in his chest; dry and violent.

“I’ll get you some water,” Bucky said, going towards the bathroom after making sure Thor was steady.

Thor opened one of the drawers and pulled out a small vial and placed it on top of the dresser. Then he reached into his cloak and pulled out a small object wrapped in a piece of cloth. He put it in the open drawer.

In an instant, Thor’s body relaxed. Steve thought he was collapsing before he realized it was a wave of relief, as if some tight string had been cut within him. As he looked at Thor he saw the other man’s face start to gain some color again; still pale, but not quite so sickly as life slowly seeped back into his skin. He bent forward and rested his head on his arms on the dresser, breathing deep, sucking in oxygen desperately.

“Thor what—“

Steve, without thinking reached into the drawer to pick up whatever it was Thor put in there.

Thor grabbed him by the wrist, jerking his hand back.

“Don’t, Steven. You must not touch it!”

“What is it?”

“I cannot say.”

“‘You cannot’— Thor what the hell just happened?”

“It is evil. It has been corrupted by the hands that have taken it. We must leave it be; let it settle.”

“What are you talking about? Thor you can’t—“

“Stop. Norns, stop, Steven.”

“No! What happened? Tell me what happened!”

“Stevie,” Bucky said from the door to the bathroom. “Leave him alone. We can talk about it later.”

Steve stepped back with a huff, watching as Thor uncorked the small vial he had pulled out and drank whatever was in it. With a groan, Thor sank to his knees, sitting down and turning to rest his back against the dresser, shutting his eyes in pain. Bucky took a few cautious steps towards him, kneeling down next to him. In a few moments, Thor’s eyes were shut, and he was passed out against the dresser, leaning on Bucky’s shoulder.

Steve stepped forward and Bucky froze, looking up at him eyes wide with terror.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

Steve’s already bruised heart clenched at Bucky’s voice. _Not this, not now._ The fear was back; Thor was not here to stand between Bucky and Steve. “What? Buck, you’re fine, you’re not gonna—“

“Thor’s out. There’s nothing stopping me.”

“You’re stopping you. We need to take care of—“

“I got Thor, you should go.”

“What?! I’m not gonna just—“

“I have this. You need to leave. I need you to—”

Steve stared at Bucky’s steely look, lost, shaking his head. “Buck, please don’t make me go.”“Please,” Bucky asked, _begged,_ and it was hurting to look at him. “You weren’t there on the jet; you didn’t see him. I almost lost him. I can’t have you here, I can’t lose you too; it’s not safe.”

“I almost lost him too!”

“But he’s fine now so you have to go!”

“We can’t do this! We can’t keep fucking doing this!” Steve yelled. “You can’t do this to me, Bucky!”

“Steve, for fuck’s sake, we can’t talk about this now. Just go!”

Steve never could say no to Bucky

“God damn it!” He stalked out of the room, not missing Bucky’s sigh of relief as he left. That made him want to scream.

* * *

  _Steve woke up, sat up in his bed and stretched, then made his way to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. He scratched his head, and cracked his neck as he went through the living room, yawning off the last bits of sleep as he made his way into the kitchen, squinting up at the snow that was falling from above._

_He stepped over to the cabinet to reach for the coffee beans, and stepped in a lukewarm puddle of water._

_“Wha—“_

_It was red against the cold snow beneath his feet; bright red over white; blood. He circled around, running but not running fast enough, feet slipping against the ice, dragging slow and heavy under his legs, to the other side of the kitchen island._

_Thor, blood dripping from his mouth. Steve screamed but no sound came out. Thor turned to look at Steve and his eyes were white, dead and unblinking_

_“No! God, no! I’m sor—_

“Steve?”

* * *

Steve jerked awake, eyes bleary in the light of the gym. He blinked looking around him. He just sat down on the bench for a minute to tape up his knuckles before punching the bag. He closed his eyes just for a second. The black wrappings were in a puddle at his feet and Natasha stood a few feet back in the middle of gym floor watching him curiously.

“Hey, hi,” he breathed out. His heart was thudding from the dream, and his stomach churned. “Christ.”

“What are you doing down here?”

“I was gonna—“ he gestured vaguely to the bags hanging at the end of the room, then bent over to pick up the wrappings.

“Why aren’t you with Thor?”

“Bucky didn’t—“

“Didn’t want you there when Thor couldn’t stop you,” Natasha said, realization dawning on her face.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “You know, you’d make a good spy. You’re pretty observant.”

She snorted, and sat next to him on the bench. “That sucks, Steve. I’m sorry.”

“Eh, it’s not your fault.”

“You okay?”

“No. I mean, I’m fine. I just—” She patted him on the leg, stopping whatever it was he was about to say. He huffed, shaking his head. “How’s Maria?”

“She’ll pull through. They really did a number on her, though. And with everything else—“ she trailed off, shaking her head. “We don’t know what the fuck is going on, Steve. But I think I’m the only one that knows that we don’t know what’s going on. You’ve been a bit distracted, and that’s fine.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but she stopped him with another pat on the leg.

“Everyone’s distracted though. We’ve all got these little, I don’t know, side projects. We’re all doing our own thing, and it’s wearing on us, and we’re not talking about it. Like, it was Hydra that got to Hill, but there’s more going on; Clint and I have been seeing some things on our solo-missions, and Barnes had some stuff to say about his time between DC and coming here with us. And Tony’s working on something, covering it up with a lot of mini, distracting projects or pranks to cover it up.” Steve thought instantly to the project with the orbs but did not say anything. “Bruce has been plugging away at his research a little more obsessively than is strictly healthy, but if he’s onto anything he hasn’t let any of us know, not even Tony. Rhodes even seems like he’s in over his head about something. Sam’s the only one acting normal, really; mostly because he hasn’t been with us for as long. And now Thor disappears off the planet—”

“Off the planet?”

“Or, off this plane. Tony and I were looking at the data from when he left just now. That’s why I came to find you.”

“I thought the tracking device didn’t bring back anything. No data”

“The tracker, no. But the comms in his ear did. We didn’t get anything,” she added quickly when she saw him ready to open his mouth to ask. “Just that he wasn’t here for a few minutes. Where he was we don’t know.”

“And he’s not saying either.” Steve sighed leaning back against the wall behind him. “I assumed Hydra was crippled after DC. I don’t like the idea they have that kind of tech; trans-dimensional travel, I guess? Sounds like something out of a comic book.”

“I’m not sure if what we’re dealing with is even Hydra at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“It just feels bigger. I don’t know. I could just be seeing things that aren’t there.”

“Yeah, because you’re so irrational that way,” Steve met her eye and she chuckled.

“Or paranoid.” He sighed, and they fell quiet. “Will you and your boys be okay?” She asked after a moment.

“I don’t know. I kinda—“ he stared up at the ceiling. “I was angry. I yelled at Bucky; I woulda yelled at Thor if he wasn’t falling apart from whatever it was he was doing.”

“That’s okay. You were scared.”

“I wasn’t—“ he stopped himself when she shot him a withering look.

“I was scared too. I’ve never seen Thor like that. He’s usually so much stronger than the rest of us. Must’ve been hit with something real bad.”

“Bucky said you spoke with him a little bit?”

“I did. It didn’t make much sense though. He—“ she bit her lip. “He said ‘I saw her, Lady Natasha. She looked so pale.’” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Not much, something about how much this mystery woman would have liked all of us. And that he must ‘try and fix them.’ But then he was just mumbling incoherently, I couldn’t get a clear answer out of him.”

“Jesus.”

They fell quiet once more. Steve stared off into space, not seeing the bright gym before him. He was tired. He could not string two thoughts together anymore. _We don’t know what the fuck is going on,_ Natasha had said. He felt guilty. He should have been paying more attention, he should have been working harder with the others, he should’ve—

“Come on,” Natasha finally said. “Sleep on our couch. You look like shit.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inadvertently terrible, because the idea of causing Thor any bodily harm is hurtful to me, so I didn't write well.


	44. Chapter 44

“Just a little bit of recon, no big deal, _no big deal_ , just walking around undercover, rockin’ the hoodies, no problem, abandoned warehouse here we come, this is easy, this is fun, we’re gonna be good at this, no one will even notice us.”

“Tony, I swear to god, you gotta calm down.”

“I’m calm, Rogers. I’m placid. I’m lukewarm.”

“Have you ever done recon before?”

“Now that you mention it…”

“Shit, Stark. You didn’t think—”

“Next bathroom we see you gotta wash your mouth out with soap for that.”

“For what? taking the Stark name in vain? How many _Ave Marias_ is that?”

“Both of you stop.” Bruce’s voice sounded through their ear pieces. “You bicker like this the whole time the other guy’s gonna show up and then we won’t have a place for club meetings anymore.”

“Sorry, mom.”

“Sorry.”

Tony and Steve both winced at Bruce’s tone and started walking towards the warehouse again in silence. They were both in casual clothes, or at least Steve was. He zipped up his coat and popped the collar around his neck. Meanwhile Tony was wearing a hooded peacoat that Steve was sure cost more than what Steve made the entire time he was in the army. Of course, he wore it over a Beastie Boys shirt, so Steve couldn’t actually complain. He looked just a little too fancy for Steve’s taste though, and he worried they stuck out a little too much — he didn’t look like someone who should be down at the docks. He had grubbier clothes, why didn’t he wear those? At the same time though, Steve was not above admitting that Tony was probably warmer than Steve was; the wind was cutting through his jacket mercilessly.

The days following their last mission Thor was quiet but on the mend. For the most part he was back to normal. They fell back into their routine of sleeping in Steve’s apartment, and did not speak of the incident. A large part of Steve wanted to sneak back to Thor’s dresser to see whatever he had hid there. But he didn’t. Thor had asked him not to. _I’m sorry. I ask that you trust me, Steven,_ he had said. Steve was not above resenting Thor for asking that of him. Along with resenting Bucky for sending him away, Steve was stewing in his juices.

But they were both so kind to him after everything that he could not be truly angry. Their hands were still warm against his skin, and their bodies still fit perfectly against his. He slept better when he was between them. They laughed together and could be quiet together. Bucky tried harder to get physically close to Steve; how could Steve be angry with him when he was struggling to do the one thing he so desperately feared just for Steve’s sake? Thor was _there_ more for Steve as well, in a way that Steve could not pin down. It left him calmer; left him almost forgetting the screams in his throat when he had seen Thor pale and dying on the quinjet bench.

He felt loved. He felt warm.

So, of course he jumped at the chance to get out of the tower for the day and do a small, violence-free mission with Tony.

Steve heard Bruce sigh through his earpiece. “Listen, you two are just getting data off an abandoned computer right?”

“Yuppers,” said Tony.

“Right. New plan; I’m gonna be standing by, but I’m way behind on some of my research analysis, so I’m gonna be working on that. Is that cool with you guys?”

“That’s fine,” Tony said. “This is easy stuff.”

“You want us to go dark?” Steve asked.

“Nah, I’ll just mute the mics. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Bicker all you want, I won’t hear it.”

“Righto,” said Tony. “I’ll keep in touch with Jarvis; he’ll let you know if things go belly up.”

“As always, Dr. Banner,” said Jarvis. “I will strive to make your life easier. It is one of my many supplementary protocols.”

“Thank you Jarvis. Thanks guys.”

There was a small ‘fzzt’ sound in Steve’s ear, and the earpieces were no longer transmitting.

“‘Go dark;’ you sound so professional,” Tony chortled. “Anyway, this is actually way better.” He slapped Steve on the arm as they turned the corner through rows and rows of warehouses, far away from the bustle of the docks. “We are doing not one, but two missions, _mon capitiane._ ”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s French for ‘my captain.’ Learn French, it gets you all the ladies. Italian too. I’m very good at Italian.” Steve did not even bother arguing that he knew French, it wasn’t worth it with Tony. Tony pulled out his phone and with a few deft taps on the screen, was projecting a tiny map of the area. They kept walking as Steve took hold of the phone studying it.

“Is that—“

“Yup. Our abandoned computer with Hydra data is in the same building as an orb. At least a potential orb.”

“No shit? That’s why you wanted me to come.”

“Yeah, figured it’d be just a mess and a half if someone else found one, and there was no real chance to tell you to look for it on the DL.”

Steve held a hand up to stop Tony and peered around the next corner. The buildings around them got more and more dilapidated, closer in and sketchier, and the last thing Steve wanted was to run into any Hydra goons. The path was clear so they kept going, falling quiet and jogging up through the last block of buildings into the one they wanted. Tony opened the door and they stepped in.

It was empty except for a lone table and computer at the far end of the room.

“Listen, I just gotta say, you know in movies when something looks like a trap and the main guy looks around and says ‘it can’t be this easy’ or ‘this looks like a trap’?”

“Yeah, Tony?”

“Well, it can’t be this easy; this kinda looks like a trap.”

“Yeah,” Steve looked around. “Yeah, it does.”

“Jarvis, is there anyone in the area?”

“There is no one within a one and a half mile radius, save for you and Captain Rogers.”

He held up his phone. “Give me a structural analysis.”

“Analyzing.” Steve and Tony stood still in the doorway watching Jarvis work through the building with his scanners. A digital readout of the building popped up from Tony’s hand a moment later. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

“It’s just a building,” Steve said. “Huh.”

“That can’t be right.”

“I guess it’s just a little bit of Occam’s razor? Simplest explanation is the usually the right one?”

“I refuse to accept that.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Tony took a step forward from the threshold and into the building proper. Nothing happened, no explosions, no Hydra falling in from the rafters, no bullets. Tony flung his hands up in the air feigning disgust and strode across the long warehouse to the computer, steps on the cement echoing up into the lofty ceiling. Steve followed after him, looking up and around, checking for something, anything that was not quite right.

Tony went up to the computer, blew off some of the dust and with an oblique glance at Steve, reached out and pressed one of the keyboard buttons, jumping back as he did.

The computer woke up and looked every bit like a normal computer.

“I thought it was going to explode or something,” Tony said with a sigh. He stepped forward and started tapping away and stuck in a thumb drive. “Jarvis will run through the computer for us. You should look for the orb. Although…” He looked around the table where the computer sat, puttering around the various electronics and wires. He pulled out a small box from behind an internet router. He opened it.

“Okay, no, this is too easy.”

There sat a glowing orb, smack in the middle of the small box like it was made for it. Inside was a scrap of paper with just “-L.”

“Blue this time,” Steve commented. “I wonder who L is?”

“No idea. And you know, it’s not quite Tesseract-y blue either. Darker. Closer to—“ he snorted. “Gonzo. Or maybe Cookie Monster.”

Steve sighed. “Blue muppets I presume?”

“You presume correct. Gonna go with Cookie Monster. Color’s closer. He’s a good guy, has his priorities straight. Got screwed over by vegetables. I can relate.”

“I don’t need to know. Anything on the computer?”

“I have gathered almost a terabyte of data, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis said from Tony’s phone. “There has been no indication of encryption or bugs as far as I can tell, but I recommend opening these files in a closed system just to be sure.”

“Of course, Jarvipoo.” Tony started clicking through on the computer, and Steve pocketed the box with the orb. “I’m just gonna check the browsing history. See if they’ve been doing any naughty searches.”

“I already have that in my system, sir,” Jarvis replied.

“Eh, humor me.”

“Of course, sir.”

Steve watched as he opened a new browser window and clicked the menu when Steve heard a series of beeps. One, two, three— they grew faster and faster. Steve grabbed the thumb drive, and grabbed Tony and pulled him back behind a thick metal beam just as the computer exploded. They missed the brunt of it, but were pelted with bits of dirt, dust and wood from the table.

“Woah. Holy shit,” Tony said. “That was unexpected.”

Steve sighed, “Christ.”

“Jarvis, did you get all that?”

“I’m analyzing the reaction now, but it may take a while to come up with a plausible theory.”

“Take your time, gorgeous.”

“Do we have any prevailing theories as to why the computer blew up?” Steve asked.

“Well, you know, it was programmed by a human, that’s all.”

“Pardon?”

“Humans are notoriously unpredictable,” Tony said, stepping out from behind the beam and brushing dust off his jacket. “They try their hardest to be infallible, and look it almost worked, that computer was doing just fine, but you put enough strain on something; programming, encryption, whatever, it fallibles. Sorry, _fails_ , duh. Straw that broke the camel’s back, et cetera, et cetera.”

“But you were barely doing anything. I can check browser history even.”

“Yes you can, cutie,” Tony smirked. “But you know, it doesn’t matter. It’s just life. Even if something is good and working fine, it might not be fine inside. Give it enough time, and enough stress without maintenance, and even the best programs, and the best people— Everyone and everything has a breaking point. The simplest thing will set off something monumental.”

“Gosh, Tony, that sounded almost allegorical.” _That sounded a little too familiar._

“I have an artist’s soul, what can I say?”

“Right. We good here?”

“I think we got everything we need. Got Cookie Monster Orb?” Steve nodded. “Right, autobots roll out!”

He jogged back to the door and Steve followed behind. Tony texted Bruce saying they were on their way back, and as they walked out into the afternoon light, the wind cut through their clothes, and they both shoved their hands in their pockets and quickly made their way through the buildings once more and back to the car.

 


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Heads up!:** This chapter depicts Steve having a bad panic attack. See end note for details. This chapter can probably go unread and not effect the plot all that much.

It was November. It was cold. Robots were flying around the city, near the Brooklyn Bridge destroying anything that moved. The rain was changing into mushy half-snow as the sun set. The team needed Steve’s help. That was the only reason he was here fighting, it was just too big without him. He was temporarily un-grounded, and did not realize how much he missed the adrenaline until he was in the fray.

Steve flung his shield at one of the flying monstrosities, and dodged away as another shot a stream of armor piercing bullets. It was easy. The shield felt familiar, looked familiar as it sliced through the air. Thor was somewhere nearby, Steve could hear his booming voice and loud laughs and the metallic clang as his great hammer destroyed robot after robot with the Hulk, having a smashing contest. Iron Man flew the perimeter with Falcon, far away from the fighting, Hawkeye took a high perch and picked off the robots one by one with his arrows. Nat on the comms link told him that she and Bucky were almost in the building, ready to take out the main control station. _Bucky’s safe, Thor’s not hurt._ Steve just had to keep fighting until they finished that chore.

 _“Then you’re done,”_ Clint had said. _“Don’t need to fight anymore.”_

But this felt right. Steve wanted to fight.

He took a deep breath and was about to turn to find another robot when—

SLAM

A blunt crash into his back, into his head and before he could gain his bearings, Steve was lifted up off the ground. The robot in question had wrapped its long, cold metal appendages around his body, and he was now flying, fighting the monster, frantically ripping off panels and pulling at wires, fueled by adrenaline alone, swearing as he fought, frantic.

“Cap, alright there buddy?” Iron Man’s tinny voice said into his ear piece.

Steve didn’t respond. An arm shot out and was reaching for Steve’s neck even as they swerved and flew around the bridge. Another connected with his head so hard that Steve saw stars.

“Steve, see under the red eye thing? That’s a control panel. Hit it there hard enough and it should shut down.”

Steve reached around and found the panel Tony was talking about. Without thinking he pulled his hand back and—

“Wait, not until you’re—“

He slammed down, and instantly the robot jerked above him, loosening his grip.

Steve was falling. He had not thought this through. He flailed looking for purchase, and managed to look down and see the East River coming up faster and faster. It looked familiar too.

_“We’ll have the band play something slow. I’d hate to step on your—“_

_Blink_.

* * *

Ice cold was seeping into his veins through his suit, his skin, his muscles, his nerves, his bones. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. He was screaming, but his voice was not working. He felt water in his mouth, and it was cold from his teeth to his bones to his feet. His body would not move, he kept trying to swim, but his arms were dead.

Something thick and heavy wrapped around his stomach, and was pulling him. He tried to fight it, but it was too strong. At once, they broke out of the water and Steve flailed against the thing holding him.

“Steven, it is alright. Breathe.”

He couldn’t breathe. It was too cold.

 _Blink_.

* * *

 

“Captain? Captain Rogers can you hear us?”

“Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.”

“Get another blanket. Pulse is weak and rapid. Blood pressure low.”

“Thor, go dry off, it’s okay, I got this.”

“I’m not leaving, Sam.”

“His eyes are open. Steve, Steve come on, buddy.”

“He’s non-responsive.”

“He looks like death. I’ve never seen him this pale. He’s fucking blue.”

 _Blink_.

* * *

“We’ll get some agents to take him back to his room. I’ll have Jarvis warm it up in advance.”

“I will take him.”

“Thor, you’ve done enough. You fished him out of the East River, for Christ’s sake.”

“I would not leave him alone, Stark.”

“What do you need?”

“Just warm the room, as you said. Has Barnes been informed of what’s happened?”

“He’s en route. He’ll meet you at the tower.”

 _Blink_.

* * *

A warm hand at his back, guiding him.

“See Steven, we are home. You are safe. Let’s get you to bed. You’re still white as snow.”

A crash, footsteps.

“Steve, Stevie!”

A warm hand on his neck. Another bunched in the blanket at his shoulders. Blue eyes in front of his own.

“He has not spoken yet, Barnes.”

“Stevie, come on. It’s okay, it was just a little water. Just Brooklyn winters, remember? We’ve done this before. We’ve done this before.” A gasp, and the blue eyes were gone. “Shit. I’ve never seen him like this. We should get him in bed, under the covers. Keep him warm. ”

“I agree.”

“Steve, come on now, let’s—“

A cold, metal hand snaked up and touched Steve’s neck, and he was back in the arctic, the Potomac, the water, the water, the water, the ice.

 _Blink_.

* * *

“Steve, please stop screaming, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

“Steven, you are safe.”

He was not okay. He was not safe. It was cold again, freezing against his back and his legs and his skin. He was not screaming though. What was the voice talking about? His throat was filled with water, with ice. He couldn’t scream even if he wanted to.

He was going to die and no one could hear him screaming.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.”

“You can breathe, love. You are safe. You are in the bathroom of your quarters in Stark’s Tower. Steven, just listen to my voice.”

“It’s cold. It’s too cold.” _It’s cold it’s cold it’s cold._

“Bring the towels.”

Hands moved him and were wrapping something around his shoulders. Then the cold brush of metal, just for the briefest of instants against the skin of his face. Steve felt the scream tear itself through his throat this time. Through the water, through the ice.

“It is your arm, Barnes. It is too cold.”

“Shit. Fuck!”

“It is fine. Barnes, I need your focus.”

“I should go. I’ll get Tony to bring you a sedative, bring the doctors.”

“Barnes, focus. You must stay. He needs you.”

“But I—“

“You leave this apartment, so help me, by the Norns you will regret it. Focus. I will stay with him in here, but you will bring more blankets from his cupboard and some bandages, and then put water on to boil. And then you come back, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“James? _Bucky?_ ” The room was silent. “I too need you here. Please.” Another moment of silence. “Now go.”

Steve became dimly aware of thick, warm hands holding his head steady even as his feet scrambled against the cool tile of the bathroom, desperately trying to push himself back into the wall, back away from the ice. He was sitting between the bathtub and the counter. That made no sense, there was not enough room to fit there. His hands could not get a grip on anything, slipping on tile, on porcelain, on blood, his blood, on ice, on snow, on saltwater. His throat was tight.

“Steven, listen to my voice. You must breathe.”

“I can’t, I can’t. Help. God, help me. God help me, godhelpmegodhelpme.” He was gasping, writhing; the dim lights were too bright, and the ice water was too cold. His lungs were full of it, salty, bitter, cruel and painful in his nose and throat, and mostly just cold, just so fucking cold. _Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme…_

He was pulled firmly away from the wall, and that tore another scream from him; he was drowning, he was drowning, there was nothing except thick, ice water all around him, he kept kicking his legs but he couldn’t get to the surface.

Thor pulled Steve close into his body, and his skin was so hot Steve was sure it was burning him as he gasped and struggled against the arms holding him steady before he slowly settled into the body at his back. There were whispers in his ear, but Steve could not hear them, could not make out the words. A hand at his forehead, and a miraculous infusion of heat into his body. It only lasted a few seconds, but it it was enough to shake him just a bit from his panic. After a moment the only thing he knew was Thor’s chest, rising and falling against his back, one of Thor’s hands stroking up and down his arm, and the other moving through his hair, and pushing his head back against Thor’s shoulder, and holding him close.

“Here. Blanket, and bandages,” a soft voice said above him.

“Can you wrap his wounds?”

“Not without… not without using both hands.”

“Worry not. I will do it. Wet a cloth. Warm water.”

“Yeah.”

A warm wet towel gingerly touched his knuckles. Steve was aware of it, but almost as if he was watching from somewhere else as Thor washed the blood from his hands and arms. The bathroom was a mess. He had broken the counter in his attempt to pin himself down somewhere small, somewhere safe, and had scratched himself against broken wood and tile tearing open his skin in the frantic process. He could not remember doing it though. He did not even remember coming into the bathroom at all. He closed his eyes trying to figure out how he got there to here, and his chest began to tighten once more.

A body kneeling in front of him, and the faint whisper of a touch on his cheek brought him back.“Bucky?” Bucky died. Bucky’s been dead. Bucky died in his kitchen. Bucky died in the Alps. Steve must’ve died too.

“Yeah, right here. We’re both right here. Me and Thor.”

“You and Thor?” The body at his back. Hotter than hell, with warmth bleeding into his skin. Warmth and something else.

“Yeah, we’re here.” Bucky put his hand on Steve’s neck once more and lay a soft kiss on his forehead. Steve could feel the stubble, damp with tears against his skin, before Thor finished cleaning and bandaging the cuts on his hands, and Bucky pulled back and draped a thick blanket over his shoulders, tucking it around him where his body met Thor’s. He felt so small, his body was shaking even as Thor rubbed his arms through the blanket, bracing and steady.

Minutes could have passed, or maybe hours. Steve was not sure. At one point, Bucky sat down next to them and curled up into Thor’s side, wrapping his arm around Steve’s middle. Steve felt Thor shift to pull Bucky under his arm. Thor’s hot breath tickled the back of Steve’s neck, and Bucky’s hot breath misting against his cheek. Steve’s chest was finally loosening, and the trembling in his limbs slowly started fading.

He closed his eyes. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a violent panic attack after falling into the East River in New York, which triggers memories of when he crashed the plane into the Atlantic Ocean in the first movie. Again, this chapter can probably go unread in terms of plot.
> 
>  
> 
> Also. This is my favorite chapter. A lot changed in the plot but I was not going to let this chapter go, and part of me is now worried that it doesn't fit, but damn I love this chapter so much I do not even care.


	46. Chapter 46

Steve pulled down the sleeves of his sweatshirt as everyone shuffled into the conference room. It was late morning, but he still felt tired, yawning as he sat down in the leather chair heavily. The chair next to him squeaked and he turned, expecting to see Thor at his usual seat at the end of the table, but instead was greeted by Sam, who gave him a small smile. Steve smiled back and they settled into comfortable quiet as the others meandered around them. Thor sat down next to him on his other side, and Bucky besides him.

Bruce came in with two trays of Starbucks drinks with Tony trailing behind him, sipping something very large and very sugary. 

“So, how about Stevie being back in the Avengers on a trial basis? All say ‘aye’?” Tony asked, as Bruce started distributing drinks. He tossed Steve a pastry bag and inside was a whole wheat bagel with cream cheese, which Steve gladly started eating, not realizing he was so hungry.

“Please don’t call me ‘Stevie,’” Steve said around a mouthful of bagel.

“No, not aye,” said Sam. “Sorry, we need to actually discuss this.”

“What? He did fine the last time he was out. He might have even been enjoying himself.”

“He fell into the East River and had a panic attack.”

“Okay, before that happened, he was fine and might have been enjoying himself.”

“Panic attack?” Steve muttered, staring at the table. “I didn’t—“

“Yes, Steve. I hate to break it to you, but you did. You were non-responsive when we pulled you out. Thor and James said you freaked out when you got back to the tower in all the ways symptomatic of a panic attack. I don’t like to bring in my VA training when I’m just here to fly and shoot things, but that’s a panic attack.”

“You’re not just—“ Clint started.

“Okay, fine,” Steve interrupted. “But none of that has to do with why I was pulled from the team in the first place.”

“You’re not pulled, you’re on temporary leave,” Tony said.

“You were pulled out because you weren’t thinking things through, Steve,” said Natasha. “My worry is that I can’t tell if what happened in the river was a mistake or not.”

“What? You think I did that on purpose?” His stomach dropped as he felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him.

“Did you?”

“No!” He blinked thinking of the East River, of the Atlantic, of the plane going down. That had been on purpose, but this? He shook his head. “No,” he said again. “Falling into the East River was an accident. I swear.”

“Look, Steve, no offense, but I think we need to talk about this without you here,” Bruce said quietly.

“Excuse me?”

“We have things to discuss, and hashing it all out right in front of you might not be the best way to go about it.”

Steve frowned looking around the room. Clint, Sam, Bucky and Bruce would not meet his eye; Natasha and Thor did. Tony briefly regarded him before going back to tapping away at his phone, sucking mindlessly on his drink.

“Alright, fine. I guess just let me know when you decide.”

Steve stood up and grabbed his drink and bagel and left the room. It was almost easy. In a breath or two he was in the elevator, then he was in his apartment, alone; deaf to the roar of blood in his ears. He put the coffee and bagel down on the side table.

“God damn it,” he muttered to himself. Then he turned around and got back into the elevator and went down the labs. _At least try to be useful, Rogers._

* * *

Someone came into the lab behind him an hour later. The orbs were thankfully hidden, and with a brief flick of his fingers, the data on them vanished; the screen in front of him looked merely like Hydra recon. Steve realized he could not begrudge Thor’s silence about whatever happened during Maria Hill’s rescue mission if he and Tony were keeping the orbs secret. It gnawed at him a little bit, if he were being honest with himself. He and Tony both flitted about with the idea of telling the others, but something always kept them from going through with it. Something foreign that Steve could not quite untangle in his mind.

“So what’s the verdict?” Steve asked, turning around. He had expected Thor or perhaps Natasha and Sam or even Bruce to be standing here. Instead it was Clint and Bucky. Steve blinked at them, expecting Thor to come up any moment and stand with Bucky as well, but the elevator was empty. Bucky was _almost_ alone with Steve. It was exposure therapy all over again, but it almost felt like progress.

“Hey Buck. Clint.” He finally managed to get out. He fiddled a little bit with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, where the edges were fraying a little at the seam. 

“Hey yourself,” Clint said easily. Steve noticed that he stood with a shoulder in front of Bucky; but other than that, to the outside world they were three guys just shootin’ the shit for all intents and purposes.

“What’s the news?”

“We’re not sure we want you back to avenging full-time,” said Clint. “There’s just too much at stake, and—“

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, crossing his arms, looking down at the floor. “No, that makes sense.”

“Dude, let me finish. We were thinking we want you to come with us as backup. No direct fighting unless things get outta hand.”

“We wanted to run it by you,” Bucky added. He stood tall, all business, arms crossed. The only indication he was at all anxious to be near Steve was the small tap of his index finger on his arm. “There’s both more pressure and less to be backup, and we— we don’t want you going into something head first without thinking about it.”

“I want to do it. I want back in.”

“Steve, think for a minute—“

“Bucky, you went back in. You said you wanted it, don’t you get that maybe I might want it too.”

“I went back in after hours and hours of therapy, Steve. I still can’t do solo missions; Clint and Natasha are acting as my handlers. It’s not the same. You’ve still got—“ He stopped himself, looking away.

“Got what?”

“Issues, man.” Clint said. “Issues that you maybe shouldn’t be bringing with you into the field, but only you know whether or not you’re good for it. Maybe things are a little better than they were before we took you off the team, but you’re not a hundred percent yet. It’s a big choice, and it needs to be processed. And we’re worried you’re still not thinking through things now.”

“What’s there to think about? I want to help.”

“What if we asked you to come in because James died, Thor died?” Clint asked; Steve’s stomach flipped at that thought. A pang of impossible remorse because he should have been there to save them in the first place; it was all hypothetical but he still felt the surprisingly heavy, gut-deep churn of guilt. “What if we need help retrieving a body because things got outta hand? Could you handle that?”

“I’ve handled worse, Clint.”

“Yeah, but this time you don’t have to,” Bucky said. “I got back in because I can’t do anything else; same with Clint and Natalia. You’re different.”

“How am I different, Buck? I’ve been a soldier for years now, same as you.”

“But you’re go—“

“Steve, we just want you think it over for the night,” Clint interrupted with a raised hand.

_But you’re good,_ that’s what Bucky was going to say. Steve frowned at the both of them, at Bucky, because Bucky could not be more wrong. He looked away, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt tight around his arms.

“Seriously,” Clint continued. “Just think about it, and try to be objective. We’ll support you either way.”

Steve sighed, biting back the urge to scream, to grab Bucky by the shoulders. _I’m not good, why can’t you see that?_

“Fine.” _I’m fine._ “We meeting tomorrow?”

“Yeah, in the morning. Pepper wants to go over some more PR stuff.”

“Right.”

They all fell quiet, silently facing each other. Clint finally gave Steve a curt nod and turned and walked back towards the elevator. Bucky hovered for a moment, only a few feet away. His fingers tapped and twitched a little bit more. Steve wanted to take Bucky’s hand in his own and hold it steady, never let go. Bucky was terrified of Steve, and it was not fair at all. Bucky finally gave Steve a small wave, and followed Clint out of the lab.

Steve was alone once more.

“God damn it.”

 


	47. Chapter 47

Thor swung his hammer easily next to Steve, looking down at the robot lizards gathering in Central Park, herding civilians into a clump. They were circling overhead in a helicopter, leaning out the open door, holding onto the straps above. Steve’s shield was hitched to his back, but Steve was not expecting to be using it this trip. _Robot lizards? Who comes up with this crap?_

“Does your blood itch as mine does, Steven?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw you fighting before you fell into the river. You took to it like a bird to flight. You miss it; I see it in you.”

Steve shrugged. “Well, maybe a little. Sparring in the gym just isn’t the same. Doesn’t matter though, I’m just backup.”

Thor hummed and gave Steve a smug look. “Then perhaps I should request backup?” He asked softly, eyes glinting.

They both turned and glanced over at the others in the helicopter; just Clint and Nat flying, and Bucky standing behind them looking through the front window as they circled the park. Steve grinned, meeting Thor’s eyes once more.

“This doesn’t really seem like something we should bother them with, does it?”

“Merely a small problem. Not worthy of their talents.”

“And they do look awfully busy.”

“Their energy would be better spent elsewhere.” Thor started spinning his hammer faster, gaining momentum. “Besides, it would not do to have you atrophy with disuse. The whole team would suffer for it.” Steve snorted.

Thor took Steve firmly by the waist. Bucky turned around then, as if sensing they were about to do something foolish. His eyes bulged as Steve waved. Thor and Steve shot Bucky a grin. Then Steve’s feet were not touching the floor of the helicopter; he and Thor were flying down into the park.

“God damn it!” Steve heard Bucky yell through the comm device in his ear. Steve spared a quick glance up to the helicopter to see him leaning out the open door glaring at them, growing ever smaller as they flew further away. “God fucking damn it!”

They landed in front of the robot lizards with a thump, standing between them and the trapped civilians. Thor’s laugh was already booming as Steve immediately flung the shield, clocking one of the beasts in the head and sending it down with a flurry of crackling wires and crushed metal. With Thor and Steve as a barrier, the civilians started climbing and helping each other up the small wall they had been cornered against, escaping upwards onto the raised grassy knoll behind them.

Thor and Steve started fighting in earnest, taking out robot after robot. It felt like something had been set on fire in Steve as he swung and punched and kicked at the beasts. Thor called out his name as he summoned lightning and Steve easily spun around and knelt behind the shield as Thor brought the hammer down and shot a wave of electricity over some of the lizards.

Something landed next to them with a loud thump.

“God fucking damn it, you stupid fucking assholes!” Bucky screamed at them.

Steve and Thor took a fraction of a moment to look chastised before Bucky pulled out a gun and started shooting the robot lizards next to them, falling in with their movements.

“Dumb fucking blonds fucking jumping out of helicopters.” 

“It’s fine! Thor can fly!”

THUNK! A jumping lizard robot got a face full of shield. BANG! Another got a shot through the eyes. WHAM! A hammer to the head. All the while Thor’s laugh echoed throughout the park.

“You’re fucking backup, Steve! That means stay in the fucking chopper!”

“My blood itched, Buck! Couldn’t be helped!”

“What the fuck does that mean? Fuck you, you fucking jerk ass fucker! I can’t fucking believe this shit!”

Steve laughed, “Fuck you too!”

Three rapid-fire shots, clangs and bangs from the shield and hammer, a sick crunch as Thor punched a robot lizard right in the face. They spun and twirled around each other, easy, anticipatory, in perfect sync.

“I can’t fucking believe this. I just never got to see the two of you fucks fighting together! Of course this shit happens to me. Again! Thor, you’re fucking worse than Carter.”

“I will take that as a compliment!”

“You should!” Steve said.

“Stupid, reckless fucks!”

Thor bellowed loudly as a particularly large robot lizard jumped over the hoard straight to his head, not impeded by the hammer. Steve and Bucky jumped and pulled it off; Bucky shot it in the head as Thor slammed the hammer down onto its belly.

They were not exactly winning this fight. There were just too many of the creatures surrounding them. But still they kept swinging. Steve had not felt this good in a while. His body was moving the way it was meant to; his shield flying through the air, sweeping arcs and cruel crunches against the robots. A few lizards started melding together a few yards away; their metal joints creaking and squeaking as they transformed into a franken-lizard-robot.

Steve called out to Thor and pointed. Bucky glanced over as Thor and Mjölnir cleared a path for Steve to run down. Steve barreled through, gaining momentum, gaining height by jumping onto the corpses of the lizards they killed before, ready to leap into the air and—

“Fucker, don’t do it!”

Steve slammed the shield down into the center of the franken-lizard-robot in a flurry of wires, metal and sparks, holding on tight as the creature thrashed underneath him. Steve straddled the beast as it jumped and bucked. Steve was reminded of some videos Sam had shown him of bull-riders at rodeos — _“Just one of the many stupid, white-boy sports you could do if you decide not to be Captain America anymore,”_ he had said — and thought that maybe there was some merit in the idea.

“Oh my god,” Bucky said from a little ways away. “Oh my fucking god.”

Steve brought the shield down a few more times and finally the creature stopped fighting, slowly glitching out and crumpling beneath him.

Steve laughed and wiped his face just in time to see Bucky grab a robot lizard by the tail and swing it around, taking out three or four more in one fell swoop. He had a manic grin on his face as he pulled out a knife and sliced off a robot head. Thor brought lightning down and took out seven; cackling as they fizzed and steamed on the ground. As Steve turned back to his own set of lizards he thought he might have heard Bucky start laughing as well. He at least had turned his cursing to the robots instead of to Steve and Thor and that was an improvement.

Finally, dozens of lizard-robot and robot-lizard corpses later, the three of them found themselves without anything else to fight. They stood panting looking around them as a few of the creatures spasm and twitched as their last bits of electricity surged out of them. 

Steve started giggling. He was walking back over to Thor and Bucky, stepping over the robot corpses. He did not mean to, but as the adrenaline itched at his skin — _in his blood,_ just like Thor said — and he could not help himself. He looked around at the mess he, Bucky and Thor had made and it just burst out of him.

“Oh my god, Stevie,” Bucky said, but he was giggling too.

“By the Norns, that was bracing,” Thor said, grinning.

They were just giggling. Steve could vaguely hear Natasha and Clint muttering with Sam and Tony over the comms, but none of it was intended for them. Steve doubled over, hands on his knees as hysterical laughter tore from his throat. He wiped his eyes calming down just a little and looked up to meet Thor and Bucky’s eyes; all three started giggling again.

“Oh Christ,” Steve said. “Okay, that was fun.”

“That was fucking stupid as all hell.”

“My blood itched. Couldn’t be helped,” Steve said again. 

“It is my fault,” Thor said.

“What the hell does that even mean? ‘Your blood itched.’”

“I’m not sure, but killing a bunch of robot-lizards was a good scratch.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“So what now?”

“In Asgard after a great bout with an enemy we sometimes have a mighty feast. Honoring the slain, replenishing our bodies—”

“I could do with some pizza,” Bucky said.

Thor frowned, contemplative; “I believe pizza would make an acceptable feast,” he murmured at last.

“Do you think the others will give us a ride back?” asked Steve.

“No,” Clint’s voice said in their comms. “You assholes are walking back.”

“Sorry, Clint,” Steve said. “It won’t happen again.”

“Better fucking not.”

Steve looked up and saw the helicopter turning around to head back to the tower and waved them off. They stood amidst the mess for a few minutes longer when Coulson and his team came in for clean-up duty. Steve, Bucky and Thor waved at them too and started walking through the park back home. Steve called Jarvis on his phone and ordered the pizzas.

Thor flung his arms around Steve and Bucky’s shoulder as they walked, heavy and grounding. They chatted about nothing. The fight was melting out of Steve; all he wanted to do was eat, and not ever leave from under Thor’s arms, sweaty and grimy though they were. Steve felt warm; he felt alive. He wanted to stay in this moment forever.

“Man, gimme that,” Bucky said. “It keeps banging on my chest.”

“Apologies,” Thor murmured. “If you insist.”

Thor jostled Steve to get his attention and Steve leaned over to see Bucky take Mjölnir from Thor’s hand. They both looked expectantly over at Bucky, expecting the hammer to thud loudly to the ground; to trip Bucky up.

But that did not happen.

Bucky held Mjölnir easily in his metal hand, swinging it at his side like it was any other weapon. Thor and Steve stared.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Steve said quickly.

“Not a thing,” Thor added.

Thor squeezed Steve’s shoulder and smiled at both of them, laughing at nothing and holding them close.

 


	48. Chapter 48

“Hi, Steve,” said a voice behind him. “Yeah, we need to go drink. Right now.”

Steve wiped his brow, turning around from the punching bag. Standing in the doorway to the gym was Sam Wilson. He was— Steve had never seen him look like this before. Sam Wilson was fidgeting. He put his hands in his pockets then took them out again. Crossed his arms in front of his chest. Picked absentmindedly at the skin on near his elbow. Stopped himself. Shoved his hands in his pockets once more. Sam was nervous.

“It’s 5:00. A little early to start, don’t you think? Want to grab dinner instead?” Sam scoffed and looked away. “What? What’s wrong?”

“There isn’t enough alcohol in my system, that’s what’s wrong.”

“Sam wh—”

“Please, Steve. I need to get out of here for a few hours. And I’d go alone, but I need someone to carry my sorry ass back when I’m done drinking, because I don’t want to to be able to move.”

Steve met his eye, but Sam pulled away after a moment, looking down at the floor.

“Alright. Let me just change clothes?”

* * *

Sam walked up to the bar, ordered a shot, and downed it the moment it was set in front of him.

“Keep ‘em coming,” he told the bartender, resolute. The man behind the bar almost agreed until Steve stepped in, shaking his head.

“No, just give us a pitcher of beer.”

“Either you’re opening a tab or I am,” Sam said. Steve sighed and passed the man the Stark Industries charge card he almost never used.

“What kinda beer you want?” the bartender asked.

“The beer kind?” Steve said, wincing. “I don’t actually know—“

“I’ll get you something good.”

They walked over to a table, the bartender bringing a pitcher and two glasses before disappearing, and sat quietly for a few moments. The bar was relatively empty. A few old men joked in the corner, clinking mugs together. They were closer to Steve’s real age than some of the others were to his lived one, he thought oddly.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”“No, I was gonna get drunk.”

“Can’t let you do that.”

“Man just—“ Sam scoffed and chugged some of his beer down. “I shouldn’t’ve even bothered you. You can’t even get drunk with me. You can go.”

Steve stared at him. Sam stared at the table, scratching at the wood with his thumbnail. “What happened?” Steve asked softly. “It can’t be anything worse than what I’ve done.”

“I don’t— it doesn’t matter.”

“Christ, Sam. Is it this bad trying to talk to me about anything?”

“No, it’s worse.”

“I don’t think that’s possible. This is kind of awful.” Sam drank some more of his beer, still not looking up to meet Steve’s eyes. “Alright. You don’t have to talk to me. It’s fine. We can sit here and be quiet, but I’m not gonna let you get blackout drunk for nothing.”

“Then we’re gonna sit here and be quiet. Isn’t like you’re always completely forthright with your shit.”

So they did. Steve sipped on his beer, it was hoppy and bitter. Steve snorted thinking that’s kind of what Sam was acting like now. Hoppy — _jumpy_ — and bitter. Not bitter, maybe, but a little angry, and anxious. But certainly not comfortable about something.

“Okay,” Sam said at last. “So Nat doesn’t do sex. At all. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t. Is that—”

“And, you know, that’s fine. She’s gorgeous. I get to kiss her. I can live with that.”

“So what’s wrong?”

“Clint has sex.”

“Does that surprise you? Have you met Clint? He’s the guy the posters about prophylactics and VD were talking about. My face was on those posters during the war, telling guys to wear condoms because of guys like Clint.”

“He’s not like that though. He just talks skeezy sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”

“So why are we drinking now?”

“Because Clint has sex. Clint likes sex.”

“Is that really such a crime?” Sam shot him a wilting look, and Steve snorted as Sam kicked him under the table. “No seriously, I don’t get the problem.”

“Clint wants to have sex with me.”

“Oh.”

Then Steve’s phone rang, vibrations sending it skittering across the table. The two of them jumped. Steve reached to answer it, but Sam grabbed it first, snatching it out from under Steve’s hand impatiently.

“We’re busy, he’ll call you back,” Sam said sharply into the phone. He was about to hang up but whoever was on the other end started talking; whatever they said was enough to keep Sam on the line. “Yeah, oh god. Yeah he’s fine. It’s me, not—” he paused. “No, we’re at MacLaggen’s.” “Yeah, Steve’s good. He’s just keeping me from getting drunk.” “Okay, yes, he probably does need help with that.” “Yeah, I guess. If you want.” “Sure, he can come too.” “See you in a bit.”

He hung up the phone and handed it back to Steve. “That was Thor,” Sam said. “He’s coming here to help you keep me from getting blackout drunk. Barnes’ll be showing up too.”

“Is that okay with you? I can tell them not to come if you want.”

Sam leaned back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Nah, don’t trip. It’s cool. I like Barnes. I like Thor. Who doesn’t like Thor?”

“So about—“

“We’ll talk when Thor and Barnes get here. I don’t want to go over everything twice.”

“Why are you so freaked—“

“No. Don’t want to go over everything twice.”

Steve snorted. They sat quietly in the bar. Sam finished his first beer and poured some more into his glass from the pitcher, leaning back and sticking his feet on the bench under the table next to Steve. Steve sat back and patted Sam on the ankle, leaving his hand to rest there while Sam drank silently. The low Christmas music over a radio — and _God, it’s almost Christmas_ — mingled with the sound of a football game playing on the television; Patriots versus Seahawks, Steve saw when he glanced over.

At long last, Thor arrived, bundled in a hoodie and jacket, smiling when he caught sight of Steve and Sam. He pulled up a chair to their booth, clapped them both fondly on the shoulder — though Steve was certain Sam did not get the warm hand resting momentarily on his neck that Steve got — and sat, flopping down heavily on the chair, shouldering off his coat, relaxed loose limbs, hand on Steve’s arm, a foot on the booth bench where Sam sat.

“What is the occasion? Revelry or mourning?” Thor asked as he settled.

“Revelry,” “Mourning,” Steve and Sam spoke at once.

“Sounds like just another day in Stark’s tower,” Thor observed. He grabbed Steve’s beer, and took a swig easily. “We drink ’til dawn then.”

“Not _mourning_. It’s not that. It’s just—“ Sam scoffed at the table and took another swig of his beer, shaking his head. “Wait until Barnes is here. Don’t want to have to tell it twice.”

“No, shan’t. Barnes is sharp and will catch on when he arrives, and I am too curious to wait. You have a problem. Tell us its nature and we will strive to fix it. ”

“It’s not that simple,” Sam replied.

Steve almost giggled. “Thor makes things simple. He’s dependable that way.”

Thor grinned. “Come friend, what troubles you?”

“Clint wants to have sex with me.”

Thor scoffed. “Bah! Is that meant to surprise me? He has already proven his eyes are sharp in the field. Perhaps the sharpest of the team. I cannot blame him the want.” Sam stared at Thor, eyes wide as Thor sipped the beer, eyes glinting.

“That’s Asgardian for ‘you’re hot, Clint’s not blind,’” Steve chirped helpfully, pulling the glass of beer from Thor and taking a sip, grinning. “Should I be jealous, Thor?”

“Am I wrong?” Thor asked. He looked over to the doorway spotted Bucky, and waved him over.

“No, I guess not.”

“What are we talkin’ about?” Bucky asked. He too clapped Sam on the shoulder, and waved at the bartender for more beer. Then he leaned down for just a moment pressing his forehead against Thor’s hair before pushing Steve over on the booth bench and settling down next to him, his hand on his thigh, but also just barely making contact with Steve’s leg. It was enough. Steve had to shove Sam’s feet over as well, and Sam groaned as Steve moved him by the legs.

“How good lookin’ Sam is,” Steve replied, grinning as Sam whispered “ _oh my god,”_ before covering his face with his hands and leaning back against his seat.

“He is a looker.”

“Barton has propositioned him,” Thor added.

“Is that why you’ve been weird around him?”

“I haven’t been weird.”

“Has he been weird?” Steve asked. “I didn’t notice.”

“You have a tell.” Bucky grinned at Sam and then flashed a bright smile at the bartender who brought over a few more cups and a fresh pitcher of beer. “This guy’s gonna need shots,” he added to the bartender.

“That’s not a good idea,” Steve said, shaking his head up at the bemused man.

“Right, correction; this guy’s gonna need shots, and all of us are gonna need to match him.”

“Buck, why?”

Thor chuckled, laugh deep and rumbling in his chest. “This will be a fine night.”

“It’s not night!” Steve cried. “It’s barely evening!”

“Shots!” Sam said. “Please for the love of god, shots!”

“I thought we were figuring out what was wrong. Sam, we were going to talk it out!”

“Let him loosen his lips,” Thor said.

“Yeah Steve. He clearly needs some liquid courage. You’re just miffed because you can’t get drunk.”

“Fine. You guys win.” Steve threw up his hands. “I’m outnumbered.”

The bartender returned with shots and left a bottle of whiskey on the table. Steve winced. He recognized the label as one of the more expensive ones. Thor filled the glasses and Bucky started to distribute them them.

“Do those even work on you?” Steve asked.

“Not as quickly. That’s why I’m drinking yours,” Bucky replied. “Double the fun.”

“Wait, no—“

“Right Sam. You gotta tell us something for each shot.”

“Hey, that wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Pretty boy,” — “ _Pretty boy?_ ” — “Fly-boy,” Bucky corrected magnanimously. “You want your shots, you play by my rules.” Steve snorted at Bucky, who waggled a finger in his face playfully. “So, you in, Sammy?”

Sam sighed. “I’m in.”

* * *

Shot.

“Clint told me straight out he wanted to sleep with me.”

* * *

Shot.

“I told him I’d think about it.”

“That doesn’t count!” Bucky cried after he finished his and Steve’s shot both. “Come on, man!”

Sam took a large swig of beer; Steve winced, and Sam started speaking very quickly. “Fine. I told him I’d think about it because I needed to buy time, and I thought having time would help me decide and it didn’t, and he said a few days, and it’s been a few days, and I’ve been hiding from them for the last twelve hours, and I’ve been awake for the last twenty-four.”

“Have you been using Jarvis?” Steve asked. “Jarvis is really good at that sort of thing.”

“Jarvis is amazing!”

* * *

Shot.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Is this something you desire?” Thor asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” said Bucky.

“Give me another shot.”

“But—“

“For the love of god, I need another shot.”

* * *

Shot.

“I kinda wish Nat had told me about Clint when we first started talking about being together.”

They were quiet for a moment before Thor finally spoke; “Pass your glass here, Wilson. Let’s top you off.”

* * *

Shot.

“She doesn’t— she doesn’t do sex. But umm— Clint— he has sex _for her_ sometimes, if he likes someone that she likes enough. It’s fucked up. It’s really fucked up. And I don’t know if I can—”

“It’s not overly fucked up,” Bucky mused. “It’s not necessarily normal, but fucked up is pretty harsh. It can’t be as fucked up as us three.”

“Well, look, he likes you enough so he asked,” Steve added. “That’s fairly normal.”

“That’s not the problem.”

“What is the problem? — What? Don’t give me that look, Sam. That’s awful. Faces shouldn’t even do that.”

* * *

Shot.

“So what is the crux of your dilemma?” Thor asked.

“It’s just—“

“‘ _Crux_ ’? Holy god Thor.”

“What? Barnes, just yesterday you cursed me in three different Midgardian languages on the sparring floor! What ever is wrong with ‘crux’? It is in English, your tongue, is it not?”

“It’s… antiquated.”

“Archaic,” Sam added.

* * *

Shot.

“Ancient,”

“Historical.”

“Primordial.”

“Old-timey.”

“Shakespearian-y.”

“You hear how they mock me, Steven.”

“No, no, no, wait, wait, wait, wait. I win. _Antediluvian._ ”

“Shit, Sam, that’s a hell of a word!”

“Thanks Sarge.”

* * *

Shot.

“Wait, shit. Shiiit. You never actually said anything last time.”

“There’s nothing to say. I’m— ugh, man, I just— fuck.”

“You alright?” Steve asked.

“They’re merely feeling the liquor,” said Thor. Then he giggled; Thor honest to god giggled. “Drink some more beer. It will ease your worries.”

“Thor! Guys stop, that’s not—”

“Man, you blondies and your alcohol tolerance. Who gave you the right?”

“Yeah, what the fuck?”

“Sam, Barnes. Remember our purpose. Sam, tell us what is troubling you.”

“One more shot.”

* * *

Shot.

“It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with Clint, per se…” Sam trailed off, staring at his shot glass, blinking slowly.

“Go on.”

“I don’t exactly know how.”

“How to go on? You’re not that drunk.”

“No, how to… you know.”

“Wait what?”

“I’ve never slept with a dude before.”

* * *

Shot.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, Sammy, Sam, Sammy, you’re gonna love it, Sam, oh my god—“

“Buck, you’re getting kinda drunk,” Steve said, unheard. Thor laughed and muttered, “ _Aye, and Jotenheim is cold.”_

“—Sammy, I promise you, like, it is really good. So good, Sam. Like, it’s sex. It’s good stuff most of the time. And you’re both pretty hot—“

“What was that you said about being jealous, Steve?” Thor whispered leaning into Steve. Bucky kept rambling and Sam sat quietly, blinking blearily at the table. Steve could feel Thor grinning against the shell of his ear, and could not help but smile back. Bucky was pasted to his side now, arm around Steve’s shoulder, and Thor’s knee was touching his. It was warm.

“Okay, I think it’s time to cut you two off,” Steve said. Sam and Bucky groaned.

“Aw come on, that’s not fair! It was just getting interesting!”

“Have any of you eaten?” Thor asked. Steve shook his head on behalf of the three of them. “Let us do that you will feel better. It is early yet, but I think food and bed will ease your burdens, Wilson.”

* * *

They walked back to the tower, Thor and Steve half-supporting, half-lifting Bucky and Sam back with them. Bucky was practically hanging off of Steve’s neck, and Thor was all but carrying Sam up to the elevator. Steve’s heart thudded at the thought of being this close to Bucky. It was right. Steve was reminded of going to the dancehall with Bucky when they were younger. Bucky would always sling a heavy arm over Steve’s shoulder at the end of the night and they would zig-zag their way back to the boarding house. Steve could get drunk then. Maybe he had been too drunk to notice how close Bucky had been then, if how close he was now was anything similar.

They stumbled through to the kitchen in Thor’s apartment, and Steve and Thor sat Bucky and Sam respectively on the benches. Thor started cooking pancakes of all things, and Steve went to get them some water.

“You can make pancakes?” Sam asked. “They have pancakes on Asgard?”

“Why haven’t you been making pancakes for me and Steve?” Bucky asked.

“Steve has no flour, and we’re there more often than here.”

“Here’s nice,” Bucky replied, pulling Steve back around the counter and then, surprisingly into his lap. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. He pressed his forehead into the back of Steve’s neck, nuzzling into his sweatshirt. He breathed hot breath on Steve’s skin. Bucky was usually so insular; so controlled. This Bucky was like the one Steve remembered. It was all easy touches and loose limbs then, and it was back to that now. Steve melted into Bucky’s chest at the memory, at the warmth.

“Yeah Bucky, here is nice,” Steve whispered back.

Thor smiled at them and passed over three plates of large pancakes, and started eating a fourth, standing next to the men, leaning his hip on the counter. They all ate and did not speak, chewing loudly the way that only happens after drinking.

“Can I crash on your guys’ couch?” Sam finally asked.

“I have a guest room in these quarters; you are welcome to it.”

“Have you told Natasha and Clint where you are?”

“They’re assassins-slash-spies, or maybe spies-slash-assassins; they know.”

“They might not.”

“They’re probably sitting in the vents watching us eat, and judging me for freaking out and—“

“I’m sure they’re not, Sam,” Steve said. Bucky pressed his face into Steve’s back, curling in as if he could go deeper into Steve’s very skin.

“I will send them a message,” said Thor helpfully, pulling out his phone.

“God, Steve. I’m fucking up,” Sam whispered. “I’m actively fucking up just by being here, and I don’t know and— oh my god,” he moaned, putting his head in his hands on the counter. He let out a low string of curses. Bucky reached out with his free hand to pat him on the shoulder.

Steve sighed. “You’re alright. You’ve just had a rough couple of days. Drink your water. I’ll find you some aspirin.” But Bucky did not let go of Steve’s waist; in fact, his arm wrapped minutely tighter. “Or Thor will find you some aspirin?”

Thor regarded them curiously, before nodding and fetching the pills from a cupboard, and setting them in front of Sam before going to check on the state of the guest room and add more blankets. All the while Sam rested his head on the kitchen counter. He walked back and nudged Sam softly, and Sam lifted his head enough to swallow the pills and drink a little bit of water — “ _Finish it all, Sam,_ ” Thor murmured. Steve met Thor’s eyes; he still couldn’t manage to untangle himself from Bucky. With a nod, Thor walked Sam to the guest room where Steve could hear him snoring within moments, and then came back to Steve and Bucky.

Awkwardly, Steve stood while Bucky was still latched onto him, seemingly unaware of how difficult it was to navigate with a drunk assassin as an extra appendage. Bucky reached out to Thor with his other hand, and the three of them hobbled into the bedroom, flopping gracelessly on the bed. Steve was trapped under Bucky who had immediately wrapped a leg around Steve’s, and was all but burrowing into Steve’s side. Thor walked around the bed, taking off his shoes and sitting against the headboard next to Bucky.

“Hey Buck, you want some water. Maybe try to sober up a little?”

He mumbled something into Steve’s body that neither of them could hear.

“What was that?” Thor asked.

“I don’t want to sober up,” Bucky said softly. “I can’t—“

“Can’t what, Buck?”

“Don’t make me sober up.”

“Bucky, what—“ Bucky held onto Steve tighter, almost painfully tight, but Steve did not move, save to run his hand through Bucky’s hair. Thor’s hand ran down Bucky’s arm softly. Bucky started speaking in a language Steve did not understand and could barely hear muttered into his chest; maybe Bosnian, or Tagalog or Mandarin maybe something else, maybe all three or more all at once.

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. Not going anywhere.”

“Shh, Barnes. It is alright,” Thor murmured. “Just rest. Enjoy this now.”

“Enjoy what?” Steve asked. “What did he say?”

“Don’t you see?” Steve shook his head. “He does not pull back,” Thor whispered, as Bucky sank himself ever closer into Steve. “The drink has made him this way.” He rubbed Bucky on the back. “His heart does not race. His fear of hurting you is gone.”

_Oh._ “Oh.” Steve looked down at Bucky, seeing his arm tight across Steve’s chest, and seeing his face buried in Steve’s shoulder. Bucky’s eyes were closed, and all he was doing was breathing Steve in, keeping contact, holding. Just _holding_ Steve. Steve drew in a shuddering breath, felt a deep clench within his chest, and—

“Oh Bucky.” Steve leaned down and pressed his lips to the top of Bucky’s head, smelling his hair — smelling his hair for the first time, there had never been enough time, there was suddenly time — _1942, Coney Island, the fancy shampoo Tony had put in all the bathrooms_ — and holding him near, closing his stinging eyes. “Oh Buck, of course. You don’t have to do anything. We can just stay— we’ll just stay right here.”

He held onto Bucky for a long time, ignoring the wet streaks running down his face. Bucky was falling asleep in his arms, and that alone made Steve have to fight back a fresh wave of tears. After a few moments, he felt the bed shift, and looked up to see Thor sliding off and start walking towards the door.

“Thor, what—“

“I will be close, worry not. And return before you wake in the morning. Barnes would not have it otherwise, I’d imagine.”

Thor smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

“But—“

“When have you last been alone together, Steven? Without strife or discord? It is like I said; enjoy this now.”

“Are you sure?”

Thor nodded and stepped quietly out of the room without another word. Steve almost called back out to him, but the words stuck in his throat. Bucky shifted underneath him, alcohol pulling him down into sleep. Steve turned down and watched the man in his arms, his heart pounding and calm all at once. Bucky turned just barely and whispered into Steve’s skin.

“I miss you, Stevie.”

“I’ve missed you too, Buck.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve are obviously besties because they both run away when propositioned for sex. They are so cute, oh my god.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to be two short chapters, but I mushed it into one long one. Yolo, or something.


	49. Chapter 49

Steve finished his evening jog with Sam and they walked back to the tower quietly, night falling outside of them gently; breath clouding in front of their faces. It had been a few days since they had gone out drinking, and Sam made his way back to Clint and Natasha. He said something vague to Steve about having asked them for a little more time, but Steve could get no more details out of him. They broke apart in the elevator and Steve went up the last few flights and got out on his floor.

There was music playing. Steve almost jumped back into the elevator at the sound before realizing what it was. Thor and Bucky were talking over the music softly.

“And we spin out— yeah, like that—“

Steve walked up to the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. An open bottle of wine was on the counter and two half-full glasses were on the table that had been pushed to far wall of the kitchen, leaving an empty space in the middle of the room. Thor and Bucky were slowly moving together as the music floated around them, barefoot, relaxed. Thor was not too bad, but still learning, and Bucky would keep looking down and correcting where Thor would put his feet. They laughed softly, and kept trying. Steve smiled as he watched. This was good. This was how it should be.

They finally caught sight of Steve and beamed at him, leaving Steve warm.

“Come on, I’m trying to teach Thor here how to waltz.”

“Waltz huh? Not lindy?”

“Only get to do this once. I don’t think either of our moms would want us teaching an alien ambassador how to dirty dance.”

“It’s only dirty when you do it. Besides, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

“It’s saying shit like that which was why your mamma liked me more, Stevie.” Bucky said. Steve and Thor both snorted. “Besides, I got all the music in the world now. Don’t have to wait for a full band. Gotta do the good stuff.” Thor spun Bucky out and back in and stepped easily to the music, “You gonna dip me too, Thor?” Thor hummed and down Bucky went, elegantly, effortlessly dipped and brought back up, breathless. Steve giggled at Bucky’s shocked face as Thor kissed him on the nose. They broke apart laughing.

“Jane taught me to dip. But that is the extent of my knowledge.”

“That girl might be a bad influence on you,” Bucky said. “I gotta meet her.”

This was how it should be.

Bucky stepped over and took a gulp of his wine from his glass and walked back up to Steve, taking him easily by the hand.

“Your turn.”

Steve sputtered as Bucky brought him into the center of the kitchen. His hand was warm on Steve’s, and he pulled him in, wrapping his metal hand around Steve’s waist. “Wait, are you sure?”

“Yeah, Stevie. I’m sure.”

“But you—“ _you can barely touch me some days._

“It’s the wine. It’s okay. It’s just for tonight.”

Steve bit his lip and looked at the ceiling. All he wanted was to stay here in Bucky’s arms. This was how it should be. But this was—

“What does that mean?”

“I can’t drink with the meds,” Bucky said. “I asked the doctors. It’ll fuck me up if I do it too much.”

“Then why are you having wine?”

“Last yeehaw,” Bucky said, his voice was a little loose from the alcohol; it sounded even more Brooklyn than usual and that made Steve’s knees feel weak. He pulled Steve in a little closer, and Steve melted into him, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thor asked what I would do with you, if I could touch you, even if just for a little while.”

“And you chose dancing?”

They were not dancing yet. They stood poised as if waiting to be counted in. Bucky’s skin was warm through his shirt.

“Yeah, Stevie. I chose dancing.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic, Buck. I never woulda guessed.”

“Really?” Thor asked from the kitchen table, where he sat with his glass of wine. “That was one of the first traits I noticed.”

They both smiled over at Thor.

“Come on,” Bucky said. “Let’s show him how it’s done. Now that I’m not losing control for a little while.”

“I still can’t dance for shit, Buck,” Steve replied. “He might leave us after this. I’ll scare him off.”

“Hush,” Thor said, regarding them curiously. “Besides, it cannot be any worse than Asgardian dancing. In fact from what Barnes has shown me, it is inordinately better.”

“You shoulda seen the stuff Bucky could do with a girl back before the war,” Steve said. “He was something else.”

“He still is.”

Steve smiled over at Thor once more. His heart hurt in this moment. He loved Thor, he loved that Thor loved Bucky; maybe that made him love Thor even more. This was not going to last, and so, of course, it was perfect. Bucky squeezed his hand very gently, once, twice, three times, and on the beat of the music, they began to waltz slowly around the room.

It was easier to dance now than it was before the serum. Bucky was leading, holding him close, and they moved in tandem as if they were made for it. His chest felt open, and his breathing came easy as they danced; it always came easy, he no longer had asthma, but it felt almost like he deserved the oxygen right now. Like this air was meant to be in his lungs instead of simply deigning to keep him alive resentfully. Bucky’s warm chest pressed against Steve’s and that felt like a gift in and of itself. They danced for a few minutes before he spun Steve around gracefully and passed him to Thor. Wordlessly the two other men had managed to work out a system beyond Steve’s cognizance; Thor could tell when Bucky was losing his nerve. _Why can’t you, Steve?_ And he would step in at just the right moment to take the reins so Bucky could pour himself a little more wine.

Thor was learning the steps easily. Where Bucky was leading with Steve, Steve was now leading with Thor. His face hurt as he smiled up at Thor, as he smiled over at Bucky. They went about the room on light feet, laughing when one or the other of them fumbled a little, all three of them trading soft jokes just barely heard over the music. Steve was passed back and forth between Thor and Bucky for a long while, song after song.

Then it was over.

“We’re outta wine,” Bucky said softly.

Thor and Steve paused and looked over at him as he stood by the table.

“Come here,” Steve whispered. Thor’s hand rested on his shoulder, fingers lightly brushing the skin near Steve’s neck. Bucky bit his lip and looked away. “Buck…”

Bucky walked over, standing just a few inches away from Steve and Thor. With Thor’s hand still on his neck, Steve reached out and pulled Bucky a little closer. Bucky shook just barely as he stepped into Thor and Steve’s bubble of space. Steve ran his hand along Bucky’s jaw, his thumb brushing Bucky’s lips.

“Can I?” Steve asked, leaning in ever so slightly.

Bucky nodded just barely. “Better go quick though; the wine’s wearing off.” He huffed a small laugh. “Fucking metabolism.”

Steve kissed him. It was warm; there was no fire this time, Bucky was too frightened and Steve too cautious, too sad. But the feel of it shot down Steve’s spine all the same. Thor’s hand was hot on his neck and Bucky’s lips were hot on his own, and it was enough. This was how it should be.

They broke apart. “I’m sorry, Buck,” Steve whispered. The words fell out of his mouth unbidden, and caught all three of them by surprise.

“What do you got to be sorry for?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t—“ _I don’t know. Everything._ “It just came out. I just want—“ He just wanted to go back to dancing. He wanted to stay between Thor and Bucky forever. “I don’t know. I’m just babbling.”

“Perhaps dinner is in order? A movie?” Thor asked softly. “We eat. We rest. We remember this, fondly.”

* * *

They were on the couch a while later, watching a movie about King George right at the cusp of World War II, eating Chinese food straight from the box.

“Reminds me of Agent Carter,” Bucky murmured next to Steve. He had acquiesced to having Steve in the middle of them, and Steve took it eagerly. Their knees brushes occasionally when one or the other of them reached to the coffee table to trade out boxes of take-out. Steve was as hungry, as desperate for that touch as he was for the feel of dancing with Bucky, hand in hand, chest to chest. Knowing what it felt like to have Bucky so close, without the fear, without the tension made this almost worse. He wondered if perhaps it had been a bad idea to dance with him, to sleep with him the other night after Bucky got drunk, because now Steve knew what that tasted like. Steve wanted to hold Bucky and never let him go. He wanted to grab on and pull so tightly they became one flesh; stars colliding and becoming massive, gravity pulling Thor right in with them because they would only grow more powerful when they were together.

“Yeah, this would be right up her alley,” Steve said instead.

“How do you mean?” Thor asked.

“This is right before the war we all were fighting. This is her country before that war. She lived through this stuff.”

Thor hummed around his chow fun. “So did you, though.”

“Yeah, but it felt far away at the time. What was it? ’36?” Buck nodded at Steve, eating a large walnut prawn. “I guess we must’ve read about it in the paper. It was a big deal.”

“’36 was a crazy year,” Bucky said as he swallowed. Steve nodded.

“Compared to when?” Thor asked. “2014?”

“I wonder if bringing down a government agency is bigger or smaller than the King of England abdicating?”

Steve huffed out a small laugh. They fell back into silence and the movie continued. Steve was only half watching. As the minutes passed, Bucky inched further away. Finally, he stood up, and went to refill his glass of water. When he came back, he walked around to the other side of the couch, and nudged Thor over, putting the Asgardian between him and Steve once more.

Steve sighed and stared at the empty take-out container in his hand, movie forgotten. Thor gingerly reached over and pulled in from his hands, and set it on the coffee table, before leaning back and wrapping a large arm around Steve’s shoulders. Steve sank into the warm embrace and tried to focus on the movie. It felt like mere seconds ago that he had been dancing with Bucky, that the three of them had been happy. But at the same time, it felt like just moments ago that it had been 1936 and they had not even been fighting the war yet. Bucky was not scared of anything in 1936, least of all Steve. Thor would have liked 1936 Bucky. Steve’s eyes stung, his face tense. He almost wanted Thor to let him go, he wanted to scream, he wanted to run away.

“I’m sorry, Stevie.” Bucky whispered.

“What do you got to be sorry for?” Steve asked, voice cracking.

Thor gave his shoulder a squeeze, and held Bucky’s hand. They were not watching the movie. Steve was not even sure what they were doing anymore. He just wished it did not hurt.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I just don't like happiness to last with these guys. Maybe I've got a problem like that... and if you think this bad, I'm about to break Steve Rogers apart.


	50. Chapter 50

Steve was in the living room, reading on his tablet when Thor walked around the couch and carefully sat down next to him. His movements were cautious, and Steve forced himself not to look up from the tablet as Thor very gingerly perched next to Steve. He was anxious. The emotion was foreign on Thor, and Steve tried not to let it worry him. But it was also rather endearing at the same time.

“Would you try something with Barnes and I?” Thor finally asked after a moment of sitting in silence.

Steve raised and eyebrow and finally looked up at him. “Sure, I guess.”

“Do you remember our night together? Before the bank mission?”

Steve’s heart flipped in his chest. “Yeah, yeah, I remember. It’s not exactly something I could forget.”

“Would that be something you would do again?”

Steve stared at Thor, his heart thudding in chest. That night. That night was too much, and not enough. In Steve’s most private moments the memory pooled warmly in Steve’s belly, leaving him flushed and bothered and wanting more, and terrified. Steve licked his lips.

Thor continued. “You— when Barnes lost control before, strangling you— you enjoyed yourself.”

“You can’t bring Bucky into that. He’s spent the last seventy years being controlled by everyone. Putting him in that position again— controlling him would be—“

“I would never, Steve. That is not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“I would give him some of the control back.”

_Oh._ Steve’s mouth went dry at the thought, flashing back to Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around his neck and how perfect, how terrifying that had felt. Coupled with the memory of his night with Thor all those months ago, Steve could hardly breathe. Then when Thor ordered him afterwards, to breathe, to rest. Something about being ordered again was—

“He something the other day that gave me pause. He said he was losing control. I would think that perhaps Barnes could benefit from such a night as like we had. I wonder sometimes if his fear of losing control would be abated if he were to actually have control. Our times together have been less than—“ he looked up at the ceiling, not wanting to meet Steve’s eyes, trying to find the word, “— _organized?_ Perhaps if we did not act as youths, fumbling around madly in the dark near the servants’ quarters we could progress further— Barnes could progress further.”

Steve snorted. “That’s one way to describe it. But Buck and I never had servants’ quarters.”

“Of course not.” He sighed and turned to face Steve. “Would that be something you would try with us? Relinquish your control to him and myself?”

Steve looked at Thor, and licked his lips, watching Thor’s eyes flick down to his flashing tongue before looking back up at Steve’s eyes. Part of him thought that maybe he should say no; if only because none of Bucky’s therapists probably had that sort of thing in mind when they gave him tips on how to overcome his fear of hurting Steve. But looking at Thor’s eyes and thinking about the three of them together — _together like that_ — Steve could only nod.

“Yeah. Okay.”

* * *

“Rogers, let me punch you,” Natasha said, heading into the gym.

“No,” Steve replied, turning to face her. “I don’t want you to punch me. I sometimes like being not punched.”

“But sometimes you do?” She asked, waggling her eyebrows and opening the cabinet with the sparing gear. Steve flushed.

“That’s not what I—“

“Relax. Just hold the target pad. I think I’m learning the patterns of Tony’s sparing bots, and it’s getting boring.” She chuckled. “It’s like the Borg. I’m adapting.”

“Is that—“

“Never mind. You’ll get caught up on pop culture eventually.”

“Yeah, one day.”

They started circling around the room slowly, Steve holding out the pad for her to punch and kick, slowly gaining momentum as they settled into a rhythm, but not reaching the erratic frenzied speed of their full potential. She stopped after about ten minutes, pulled off her shirt, revealing only her sports bra and started again.

“You doing okay?” Steve finally asked.

“No. I want to ask you about what my boyfriend said to you the night you got him drunk, but I also want to respect his privacy. And I kind of know what’s wrong and could probably fix it, but I don’t want to use my skills, or have him think I’m using my skills to manipulate him into feeling better. He deserves to work through the issues himself, but I’m sad there are issues, and frustrated because of my part in them.” She said all this without breaking stride. Steve was so impressed that almost missed blocking a kick to his midsection, pulling the pad in front of him just in time.

“Okay, first; in my defense, Bucky and Thor got him drunk; I was against the idea. It was uncharacteristically responsible of me, you would’ve been proud.” She grinned at him. “Second; you just laid out everything that was wrong like it was no big deal. How did you do that?”

“I’m very analytical, Rogers. And unlike you and the rest of the men in this tower, I talk through and work through my problems as they arise.”

“That sounds like a smart way to approach things.”

“I am very smart.”

“Yes, you are.” She punched and jabbed at the pads he was holding, forceful, but not with all her strength. “Although…”

“What?”

“Sam mentioned something about you that—“ Steve stopped himself. “Sorry, I shouldn’t ask. He was tipsy when he said it.”

“Said what?”

He pulled back and Natasha stopped, wiping her hair away. “You don’t— he said you didn’t—“ Steve really did not want to say the words out loud. 

“Have sex?”

“Yes, thank you, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t do that. I mean, unless it’s for a mission, but that’s different.”

“Is it because of the Red Room? Like, conditioned out of you or something?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t ever remember feeling that sort of attraction in the first place. And when you have to use it to get close enough to kill someone it doesn’t make you any more interested in it, you know?”

“Yeah, I’d imagine so.” Steve pulled his hand out of the target pad and ran it through his hair. He still could not quite meet Natasha’s eye.

“But you still don’t get it,” she said sagely.

“I just— you don’t _want to?_ A-at all?” His voice cracked and he knew his face was bright red.

“You’re adorable.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want to have sex. It’s really just that simple. You don’t have to get it.” They started punching once more, a little slower; more relaxed.

“I guess I don’t then. Get it, I mean.”

“And yet I still love you. Repressed, insular, uncomprehending boy angst and all.”

“God, those are the exact words I would use to describe Tony sometimes. That’s embarrassing.”

“Yes, it is. You’re embarrassing, Rogers. I don’t even like being seen in public with you.”

Steve chuckled, holding the target pad out away from his body as Natasha roundhouse kicked it easily. They fell quiet and moved around the room while Natasha hit target after target.

“Step softer,” she said. “Let’s make this practice worthwhile.”

“Little bit of stealth mode?”

“Sure. Just impact sounds?”

“Let’s do this for real then.” He took off the target pads and tossed them aside.

“Love taps only.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They began to spar in earnest, but more importantly in silence. The only sounds in the room were the occasional tap offlesh hitting flesh lightly, deeper than usual breaths, the creak of the floor beneath their feet, a soft grunt. They started moving fast. Steve could not help but smile, Natasha could not help but smirk. This was fun. Natasha was better at getting shots in, and would occasionally poke him in the ribs rather than the standard tap, making Steve jerk and try not to giggle at the tickling fingers.

She finally got the upper hand and pulled him crashing down onto the floor with a loud thump. She landed next to him on the floor. They stayed there for a moment panting. Steve met her eye and they giggled, looking back up to the ceiling and fighting off hysterics.

“Christ, you’re fast,” Steve said at last when they settled down.

“You’re not too shabby yourself, Rogers.”

Steve’s phone chirped from far away on the bench where he left his sweatshirt.

“You gotta get that?” Natasha asked.

“It’ll keep.” He rolled over to his side with a groan, feeling suddenly sore. “Christ, what did you do to me?”

“Pressure points. They’re a hell of a thing.” She reached over and smacked him on the thigh and sat up, fixing her hair which had fallen out of its ponytail. “That was fun, even with the weird detour into my sex life.”

“Or lack thereof.”

“Yeah… shit.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just worried about Sam. I think Clint and I are offending his traditional sensibilities.”

“That’s not— you know that’s not what’s up right? Not entirely anyway.”

“Huh?”

“He’s never done it with a guy before, Natasha, so he’s real freaked out about that. And he was real thrown when you guys brought it up.” Steve looked over at her and met her eye. To his surprise her eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

“He’s never been with a guy?” She looked around the room, mouth agape, blinking as Steve shook his head. “That explains some of it. God, never?”

“That’s what he told me. I shouldn’t even be telling you. Like, he was still thrown at your proposition, but there’s, you know, layers.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

His phone chirped again.

“You should go check that.”

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Steve said again, sitting up.

“I’ll tell Sam I cut off your toe.”

“I just— he likes you a lot. He’s just real thrown. I’m a little worried.”

Yeah, you mentioned.”

Steve stood and walked over to the bench wincing; stiff as his sore muscles started healing under his skin. He found his phone and saw a text from Thor; _“Tomorrow night? After Barnes and Barton return from their reconnaissance mission?”_

Steve typed a quick ‘ _sure_ ,’ and tossed his phone down on his sweatshirt and flopped down on the bench.

“What was that?” Natasha asked, still sitting in the middle of the floor.

“Nothing.” He sighed and leaned back against the wall. “Jeez Natasha, what happened to ‘just love taps’?”

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon; Natasha Romanoff, beautiful, asexual trekkie. Fight me. (don't fight me. I have a black belt and you will lose, also fighting is lame, let's make out).


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **HEADS UP:** This is the chapter that warrants the 'Bad BDSM Etiquette' and 'Dubious Consent' tags. All three of these guys do not know about safe words at this point in the story. There is a moment in this chapter where Steve wants things to stop/slow down but does not feel he can ask Thor and Bucky to stop for a myriad of reasons. As such it constitutes dubious consent, if not entirely non-consensual sex. They will be educated/chastised for this later on in the story, and work to fix the problems. That being said, at the end of the day, even with the parts both Steve and us (the readers/the writer) enjoyed about it, this sex is ultimately problematic. I do not wish to idolize what occurred nor do I condone it in a real-life setting.

“And you’ll do anything I say?” Bucky asked, words breaking slightly over his tongue; hitching with his breath. His voice was soft, but in the bedroom, with Steve barely breathing, with dark twilight fallen outside, it sounded much louder. The night was soft, but as Steve stood facing Bucky with Thor behind him next to the bed, it felt electric and heavy on Steve’s skin.

“Anything,” Steve answered.

“And if I told you to leave? Go to the panic room in the closet even? Get out of the building?”

“It won’t come to that—“

“Tell me.”

“I will, Buck.” Steve met Thor’s eyes. He tried to meet Bucky’s eyes, but Bucky would not reciprocate. “But it won’t come to that. I know it won’t. I trust you. And– and you can trust me. I’ll do what you say. If you’re not— if you’re not _here,_ I’ll do what Thor says. I promise.”

Bucky was quiet a long time, looking at Steve but still not meeting his eyes. Bucky’s hands shook just a little, metal and flesh in sync at his sides.

“Your words are our command,” Thor said softly. 

Steve nodded.

“He is yours,” Thor whispered.

Steve swallowed, heart thudding, mind racing, _want_ churning in his core.

Finally, Bucky lifted his hand. It hovered a few inches in front of Steve. His fingers were shaking. This was easy, this is okay, Steve thought; they had done this before. Steve moved to raise his hand as well when—

“Wait,” Bucky whispered. “Don’t move.”

Steve’s hand fell back at his side. He held perfectly still.

Steve never could say no to Bucky.

Thor rubbed his hands up and down Bucky’s biceps, comforting, warm and firm — _as if the two arms were the same_ — and pressed his lips against the side of Bucky’s face, half-chaste, half-passion. Bucky ran his hand down Steve’s cheek, a smile smile alighting his face when Steve did not move. Perhaps Steve was breathing just a little more deeply, perhaps his breath hitched when Bucky’s fingers ran down his face, but he did not move. He did not lean into the touch no matter how desperate for it he was. Bucky met Steve’s eyes then.

“Okay,” he whispered, more to himself than Thor or Steve. A small nod, a resolute glint in his eye. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

* * *

Bucky asked Steve to take two steps back; voice hesitant, experimental.

Steve stepped back. The smallest thrill of something ran through him when Bucky nodded, when Thor smiled softly.

Bucky asked Steve to walk back to them.

Steve stepped forward.

Bucky asked Steve to take off his clothes. Thor held up a hand, stopping Steve, and spoke into Bucky’s skin — “ _You are in control, James. Speak as such.”_ — Bucky nodded, licking his lips, eyes resolute.

Bucky _told_ Steve to take off his clothes.

_Oh._

Steve swallowed thickly, nodding. He started pulling off his shirt; his hands shook as he tried to undo the button and fly of his pants. He shook. Steve was shaking.

Bucky and Thor stared. He felt so small, standing naked in front of them. The sound of Bucky just barely gasping at the sight of him — more inhale, than a true gasp really — shot through Steve; down his spine, through his nerves, consuming like fire, pooling in his core. Steve could almost understand it, even as his mind was racing: this was different.

Bucky told Steve to kneel.

Steve almost couldn’t. Kneeling was something different too. Bucky’s voice was so soft when he asked for a second time; the unspoken “ _Please.”_ louder than the sound of Steve’s blood pounding in his ears. Steve never could say no to Bucky.

Steve knelt in front of them; almost losing himself to the tidal wave as his knees finally cooperated. Relief, release, a click in his mind as he let this happen. Anticipation buzzing on his skin more tactile and raw than the feel of the carpet against his legs; more heat and electricity than the air against his naked skin; more weight and fiery blood than what was filling his cock. Steve might have forgotten to breathe. 

Bucky let out a breath. Bucky ran his fingers down Steve’s face once more, and _a sound_ fell from Steve’s lips. _Don’t move_ , said a small voice; so Steve did not move, but god he wanted to. Thor whispered into Bucky’s ear — _“This is your doing, Barnes. He is pliant and eager, and it is all for you.”_ — Steve gasped as he heard. _“He’s so—“_ Bucky did not finish his thought, staring at Steve, pupils blown wide. _“Yes. Even more so now, with you here,”_ Thor replied.

 _“With both of us,_ ” Bucky said.

_“Aye.”_

Steve’s heart almost hurt as he stared up at the two of them.

Thor ran his hand over Bucky’s chest, feeling his heartbeat, murmuring sweet nothings into Bucky’s ear, keeping him calm, but he did not need it. _“This is working,”_ Bucky whispered back. _“Thank you.”_ Steve watched transfixed as Bucky kissed Thor, turning around, pressing his hips flush to Thor’s body; Thor’s tongue making its way into Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky moaned. Steve moaned.

They turned and looked at him, kneeling on the ground. They grinned.

Thor and Bucky kissed once more.

Bucky told Steve not to move. _But god he wanted to._

They fell back on the bed, forcing Steve to watch, forcing Steve to hear (they were louder perhaps than usual, for Steve’s benefit). They were languid and liquid; gold and silver. Eyes full of love when they pulled apart and regarded each other. Steve’s heart hurt.

 _“Look how well he waits for you,”_ Thor said when they turned and pinned Steve in their gaze.

Bucky smiled and told Steve to come towards them on the bed, pointed to the spot between Thor’s legs. Steve started to stand. 

_“No, stay down.”_

The implication was loud in the silence of the room; _Crawl._

 _That’s not— I don’t—_ but in the end, Steve crawled. Steve flushed at the eyes on his body, Steve could not meet their eyes, as they sat on the edge of the bed watching him. _Don’t break,_ an old voice said from far off. Steve shook the thought away.

Bucky’s metal hand ran down Thor’s bare chest, inches away from Steve’s face. Bucky pulled out Thor’s cock, pumping it a few times, inches away from Steve’s face. Steve whimpered, staring, hypnotized. Bucky leaned down and took Steve’s face in his hands, metal warm from Thor’s cock, and kissed him. Steve keened into Bucky’s mouth, hands lifting of their own accord until Steve remembered Bucky told him not to move and his hands fell back down to his knees. Steve put everything he had in to the kiss; all tongue, all lips, all breath. Then, Thor tapped Bucky on the shoulder, pulling him back from Steve — _no, no, that’s rude_ , said a voice in his head, as Steve let out a whimper, _I want this, I want more, please, please, I want_ — and whispered something in Bucky’s ear that Steve could not make out.

 _“He knows. He has to know,”_ Bucky replied, looking down at Steve, brow furrowed.

_“Tell him, friend. It is good to say it aloud. He will appreciate it.”_

Bucky ran a hand through Steve’s hair. Then Bucky said something that made Steve shiver on the floor, made blood rush to his already full cock, made him gasp, made him moan. Made him want; even harder than he thought was humanly possible.

_“Good boy, Stevie.”_

He could not help himself as he gaped up at the two men above him, leaning to rest his cheek on Thor’s knee; body almost giving out, strings cut, melting. He was burning, crackling, shaking; _I want this, I want more, I want more, please—_

Bucky tapped him on the cheek, gently nudging his face to Thor’s cock.

Thor’s moan reverberated through Steve’s body, from his mouth where Thor’s cock was heavy and thick on his tongue, to where his toes spasmed against the carpet.

Bucky fisted Steve’s hair with the metal hand, pulling him off of Thor.

_“You’re so good, Stevie.”_

_“You’re doing so well.”_

Steve smiled around Bucky’s cock now, turning into liquid from the praise, losing thoughts and flickers of cognizance as he sucked; Bucky’s scent filling his nostrils, Bucky’s metal hand hard and firm against his skull, grip just shy of hard enough to bruise. Steve wondered if it would; Steve almost hoped it would. He liked the hurt.

Steve wondered if he could come from Bucky pulling his hair alone if he thought hard enough about it. Bucky pulled him back and Steve stared up at the two men, lips swollen, skin thrumming, body shaking with want.

Thor came on his neck and chin first.

Bucky came on his face, into Steve’s open mouth, metal hand still tight in Steve’s hair, tilting Steve’s head up to face the two men he found himself so desperate and keening and wanton with. _The two men he found himself in love with._ He was floating.

Thor stroked his cheek. Thor’s thumb pressed into the cooling cum on Steve’s face, smearing it just a little. Steve trembled at the filth of it, resting his head on Bucky’s knee, mouth open and slack, barely flinching when Bucky’s metal hand ran through his hair, almost comforting.

 _Don’t move._ Isn’t that what Bucky had said? That was all that was keeping him from Steve from rubbing off on one of their legs, desperate for friction on his painfully hard cock. _Tell me to move, tell me to do anything, anything, anything—_

Instead, Steve sat on his knees, breathy, needy, unable to think straight, unable to see through glazed eyes, unable to even breathe.

Bucky smiled.

* * *

“Perhaps some reward is in order?” Thor suggested. Steve blinked up at them. “Something like what I have done with him before?”

 _Before_. Their night together. He did not move, save for his cock twitching against his thigh. He swallowed thickly, and looked to Bucky who met his eye and then nodded.

Thor stood, kicking off his pants, and walked naked over to the nightstand to pull out the lube.

“I would not have him wait. Not take him entirely tonight Barnes,” Thor said over Steve’s head. Steve at once felt a wave of relief and a wave of disappointment. He was anxious, and hard and wanted everything and—

“Maybe next time,” Bucky replied. _Next time._ And wasn’t _that_ a thought?

“Still, we will make it worth his while.”

“So a little like what you told me about?” Bucky asked. “On the bed, the pillow?”

 _Bucky knew what had happened that night._ Thor had told him. When had Thor told him? _What_ had Thor told him?

“Aye.”

Bucky let out a low breath. “Okay.” He nodded and licked his lips, pink tongue darting out; “Stand up, Steve.” Steve did, his legs shaky underneath him. “Lie down on the bed. Hold the pillow. And don’t move.”

He licked his lips once more, meeting Steve’s eyes, full of love; bright, clear, happy; and Steve’s heart jumped in his chest.

“And don’t come until I say.”

_What?_

Steve’s heart pounded, his stomach clenched. He knelt on the bed and crawled towards the middle. Bucky ran his flesh hand down Steve’s back and that sent wave after wave of sensation through him. His skin burned where Bucky had touched him, and fire shot through his muscles and nerves. His hands almost gave out underneath him. But he made it and laid down on his back. After a few, shuddering breaths he put his hands behind his head on the pillow.

“Was it like this when—“ Bucky asked Thor.

Thor touched the sticky, tacky cum on Steve’s face and neck, “This part’s new.” Steve was certain he would vibrate out of his skin. He could barely hear the conversation that was happening above him. “He fought so hard before,” Thor continued. “That night. He was angry, lost, and unfocused. He did not want to give in. Perhaps you were the missing piece, Barnes. He is pliant and wanton here with you.”

Bucky hummed. “I think it’s both of us,” he whispered. _It is._

“We should not make him suffer with wait though.”

“I could stare at him all night.”

“I as well. What is more is that I do not doubt he would let us.” Steve bit his lip and tried to fight his hips as they arched up into the air in front of him. Thor chuckled. “How shall we reward him?”

“Kiss him, Thor.” Bucky’s voice was soft, so soft. Steve licked his lips.

“Hmm. Gladly.”

 _Thor was taking orders too_ , a vague part in Steve’s brain thought to mention to him. _That’s nice. That’s amazing._

Thor was hovering over him. Steve clutched the pillow under his head so hard he was certain it would tear apart in his hands. Feathers would fly everywhere as he keened and moaned and shook, distressed beyond all reckoning knowing he did something wrong, even though he tried so hard to be good for Bucky, for Thor.

Thor’s lips pressed against his and he exhaled into the hot, familiar feel of it; the lightning, the thunder of blood pounding in his ears, the scratch of Thor’s beard on his face. He kissed back, but that was all. _Don’t move, don’t come._ It was impossible, and he was left gasping and writhing and trying so hard not to writhe as Thor pulled back. Steve’s muscles were aching. Thor ran a hand up and down Steve’s thigh, and so close to Steve’s cock, but never close enough.

Then Bucky was there, kissing him now, sending hot flames of sensation through his body, burning, _burning_. Bucky kissed him so deeply; consuming, desperate, raw. He ran both of his hands down Steve’s ribs, warm hand on one side, body-heated metal chilling the other. Steve did not exactly _like_ that, but he would not move, and Bucky’s tongue in his mouth was so hot, and left him burning so much, burning for more.

Bucky and Thor were on either side of him, and that was fine, that felt almost familiar. They had done this before, though Steve could not even make his mind think back to how badly that time had been.

He held the pillow, licking his lips, tasting Bucky as the man pulled back, Steve’s eyes rolling back into his skull of their own accord. He and Thor conferred over Steve’s head, but Steve was far too gone to hear it. Their hands were everywhere — _don’t move, don’t come_ — and Steve was going blind with the feeling. What did his file say? He was more sensitive? Somewhere deep in his grey matter a very tiny, very strangled voice said _yeah, no shit._ He could hardly catch his breath as the two men ran their hands along his body, teasing his nipples, just barely tickling his ribs, and made their way down between his legs. _Don’t come._

Thor grabbed Steve’s cock first, and Steve shouted, the sound tearing through his throat unbidden. “Oh— _oh god!_ ” the words fell from his lips.

“Shh. You’re doing so well, Steven.” Thor whispered in his ear. Steve could only whimper. _Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come._

Then a warm finger made its way between Steve’s legs, pushing through to circle and play with his hole. He shut his eyes trying to block out any sensation and calm his breathing and that almost made it worse. The hand on his cock was gone. He heard the sound of the little jar of lube opening from far away. The finger was gone for a moment, before being replaced, and it was slick and hot and suddenly inside him, pushing through the tight ring of muscle. Thor slowly moved the finger in and out, in and out. And then, a flash, _lightning_ ; Thor brushed up against Steve’s prostate and Steve’s body jerked.Steve’s mouth had fallen open and he could not even bother to fight the sounds coming from him now. Moans, and gasps and keens; just sound completely independent of Steve’s brain. _Just don’t move, just don’t come_ , something whispered in his mind. It was all he could do to obey the words. He needed to come, it was too much—

He heard the jar again; it was so far away.

Something else was circling around his hole, next to Thor’s finger. It was colder. It was unyielding. It took Steve a few moments to piece together, but in that time, Bucky’s metal finger was pushing through and was suddenly inside him as well, next to Thor’s finger as they worked on his hole in tandem. Steve moaned; it fell loud and heavy from his throat. Bucky’s metal thumb rubbed soft circles around the sensitive skin behind his balls. Steve whimpered. Thor reached up and took Steve’s dripping cock in his hand once more, using the precum pearling at the tip to smooth the way as he started moving up and down his shaft. Steve might have been screaming, he did not know.

A second metal finger made its way inside of him and Steve whimpered again, trying not to move, not shake his head like a wild thing, squeezing his eyes shut. The stretch was a burn, the metal was inhuman. _Don’t move, don’t come_.

_Don’t break._

“Shh. Not yet, Stevie. Almost there.”

 _No, that’s not_ — Thor and Bucky worked their fingers in and out of his hole, and Thor’s hand worked up and down his cock. Bucky leaned forward, and kissed Steve once more, and Steve gasped into his mouth, hot tears streaming down his face, and god, _when did that happen?_ He hiccuped and sputtered and sobbed as the other two men worked him into a frenzy; he could not breathe. _Don’t move, don’t come_.

_Don’t break._

He was not sure he could come anyway, he was not sure if he would feel it if he did. His mind raced, his heart hummed. Thor pulled out from inside of him, and it was just Bucky now, the metal hand hard and rigid inside him and around him, and he hated it he realized, _hated it_ and could do nothing about it but he was not sure he wanted to. _Don’t move_ , so he did not move. _God let it be over. God don’t let it stop_. The metal hand started moving faster, slick and hot and filthy and hard, too hard. Thor and Bucky worked in time, a hand twisting the head of his cock while a metal finger grazed his prostate over, and over, and over. 

His mind flashed to Bucky screaming, unable to get away as a faceless someone drilled holes into his bones and attached electrodes to his very nerves, making the arm a part of him. Forcing it into place as Bucky was helpless to get away.

“Please,” _Please stop. I can’t— it’s too much—_ he whispered, he whimpered. “P-please.” _Stop._

“Okay Stevie, almost there.”

“You’re doing so well,” Thor added.

“Come on, Stevie.” Bucky leaned down and whispered in Steve’s ear. Steve was so far away, but so close. It was too much. The metal fingers moved even faster now, and Steve could not breathe. He needed them gone, but he needed more contact. Bucky told him not to move, not to come, and he clung to that in the haze, in the fire, in the thunderstorm; that was all that made sense and even that was not right.

“Come.”

 _No, please_.

A final — _hard, metal, stolen_ — brush against his prostate, a final twist at the head of his cock, and Steve came, yelling, sobbing, seeing stars and lightning and fire. It hurt and it was release and relief. The metal hand kept moving in and out of him still, working him as Thor pumped his cock through his orgasm. He clung desperately to the pillow behind him, the only lifeline he had as he crashed through a barrier he did not know was there.

Then it was over. Thor released Steve’s cock, and Bucky’s fingers thankfully, miraculously slipped out from Steve’s hole, leaving him empty and shaking. It was an earthquake; he could not stop himself. The two men ran their hands up and down his body once more, pushing him to the limits even more as they wandered over his oversensitive, _burned, lightning-pocked_ skin. They pressed warm kisses along his chest, his neck, his arms, his face, and pulled him in tight to their bodies. They kept touching him, and he could do nothing. _Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move, don’t move_. Thor ran a warm hand through Steve’s hair, damp with sweat, and ran his fingers across Steve’s face, damp with tears, tacky with cum. Bucky ran a lukewarm hand up and down Steve’s bicep, and darted warm fingers across Steve’s chest and neck. Steve’s eyes fell closed, _don’t move, don’t move._

“Well done, Steve,” Thor whispered into his skin. “We are finished now, you can move.”

_Don’t move, don’t move._

He kept his eyes shut, trying to breathe, trying to think, and could barely do either. There was whimpering but he was not sure where it was coming from.

“It’s okay, Stevie. All done. It’s okay, it’s okay.” A metal hand touched his wrist, and slowly pulled one of his arms down, and Steve finally let go of the pillow with a gasp. “You did so good, Stevie. It was gorgeous.”

“Yes, you were sublime.”

_I did good. I did well. I didn’t break._

He could not help himself. He was gasping at the air, desperate for oxygen, for air, for space, for everything to stop. He pulled his arms down and curled into a ball on his side, all the while Thor and Bucky rubbing comforting, terrible hands along his body, soothing and painful and present, pulling him back from wherever it was he had been, wherever his mind was trying to escape to.

“Are you alright?” Thor asked after a few moments.

Steve forced himself to nod.

“I’m f-fine,” he whispered. _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine._ He kept trying to breathe for a long time, as hands roamed over his body. He finally opened his eyes, seeing Bucky and Thor look at him. He met Bucky’s eyes. “Itwas— was it okay, Bucky?” he asked. “Did it help?” _Did stabbing me help you?_

“Yeah, Stevie. It was good, it helped, it’s quieter,” Bucky whispered back. “We can go even further next time.”

Steve forced himself to nod once more and tried to smile at Bucky, but was not sure if he actually managed it or not. He curled a little into Thor’s chest, as Bucky slid behind him. He was still clothed, Steve realized from far away. The cotton of his t-shirt was warm against Steve’s back.

“You’re shaking, Stevie.”

“I’m fine,” Steve replied. _I’m fine, I’m fine_. “It was—“

“We’ll go slower next time, maybe.”

 _Next time._ And wasn’t that a terrible thought.

“Okay.”

Steve curled tighter in on himself, and Thor and Bucky moved even closer in, bracketing him, holding him still. Their thick, hard bodies were shielding him and trapping him. He was not getting any air, and it felt like he was still on display, still theirs to move, to touch.

_It’s over. Don’t break. Don’t move._

He could not move even if he wanted to.

And, as he tried to breathe, tried to think straight, tried to stop trembling he realized; he wanted to. Between the two of them was the last place he wanted to be.

His heart hurt at the thought of that.

 


	52. Chapter 52

Bucky crowded up to Steve as Steve was pouring himself another cup of coffee, almost pushing him into the corner where the counter and the fridge met. He locked lips with Steve before Steve could react. He was frozen, and Bucky’s tongue was burning. He gasped into Bucky’s mouth, and kissed back just enough that Bucky hummed and pulled back to meet Steve’s eye. Steve’s heart was pounding jackhammer fast in his ribs.

“Touch my chest,” Bucky whispered, _he ordered_. Steve reached up, hand almost shaking and placed a hand on Bucky’s chest, unable to stop himself.

“Heart’s going a little fast, Buck,” Steve said. _You should step back. Please step back, just a little._

“But it’s not getting faster, Stevie.” Bucky smiled, wide and warm and Steve could not help smiling back even as he felt Bucky settle his metal hand on Steve’s ribs. He took a shallow breath and nodded at Bucky. “I can touch you,” he continued. “It’s so much quieter. I love you.”

Steve nodded. “I love you too, Buck.”

Because he did, he really did. The metal hand on his ribs was slowly warming up, sucking Steve’s body heat out of his skin through his shirt. He pulled his eyes away only to see Thor with a mug of coffee, smiling at the sight of the two of them. He tried to smile back. Then, miracle of miracles, his phone chirped. He pulled away with his mug of coffee, casual, fine.

_I’m fine._

* * *

Steve sat in the quinjet cockpit with Clint as they watched the fighting below them. He was learning how to use the jet’s mounted artillery — _“something to keep you busy so you don’t decide to joyride with Thor again!”_ — but did not trust himself enough yet to aim accurately into the fray. Risking the others is the last thing he wanted to do.

“No, that’s good,” Clint had said. “Know your limits. That’s better for everyone in the long run.”

“Right, yeah.”

“Besides, don’t want to wear our backup out, do we?”

Steve hummed. He looked through the screen and saw the hammer, and saw the metal hand and could not pull his eyes away. Would he even be able to aim at the enemy with those in his sight? _‘Thou hypocrite, cast out first the beam from thine own eye…’_ the words from Sunday school ran through his mind. That wasn’t what they meant. _Sister Catherine told me what it meant, but I don’t—_

_I’m fine._

* * *

“Hey Tony,” Steve greeted, walking into the laboratory.

“Cap, just in time. I was about to call you.”

“Yeah, I was looking at Colonel Rhodes’s data last night.” _I couldn’t sleep, not between them, not at all._ “I was thinking there’s at least some correlation between the orbs, Hydra, and more densely populated cities. There’s Hydra activity in the middle of nowhere, but no orb activity. It’s a stretch, but I think it might mean something.”

“That is good, we will pursue that, but look at this first.” He brought Steve over to the table and pulled out the three boxes with the orbs. “Lookie, lookie, lookie!”

He opened the boxes, held up his hand for the Iron Man glove to attach to and lifted each of the orbs in the air where they stayed suspended, floating over the desk.

“We knew they floated sometimes, though.”

“But here, watch Miss Piggy.”

He poked the pink orb, pushing away from the others. However, as it swung away, the other two orbs followed, maintaining the same distance away from the first.

“And look, Cookie over here is further away from Piggy than Kermit. And Jarvis and I have been running tests, and it maintains that exact distance throughout. These babies are almost like atom with electrons spinning around, but not quite, because duh, electrons and whatever spin, but these are static.”

“So what does that mean?”

“I have no idea.”

Steve sighed watching as the orbs moved around and settled back into place. Tony was right, they kept their position relative to one another, and that was interesting in a far off way. Steve was not thinking and absentmindedly reached up to touch the closest orb, _Kermit_ , with his finger. Tony snatched him by the wrist just in time, metal red glove firm on his skin and Steve jerked back at the feel of it.

“You don’t want to do that. In general I recommend not touching these guys bare handed anymore until we know what they do. I don’t have time to make you an arm like your boyfriend’s just now.”

 _Maybe then I’d be alright,_ Steve thought, before shaking his head, surprised at the thought. He stared at Tony for a moment before collecting himself. “Right. Sorry.”

_I’m fine._

* * *

Bucky poked his head into the bathroom as Steve turned off the electric razor and brushed off his face.

“Stevie, I was thinking we should try sparring together. Now that I can—”

“No!” The word was out of his mouth like a bullet, he almost dropped the razor. Bucky’s face fell. “I mean, Christ, not yet. I’m not—“

“No— _ah shit_! I shouldn’t have—“

“I can. If you—“

“No don’t— _ugh!_ Don’t do that—“

“Don’t do what?”

“Never mind.” Bucky took a breath. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He took a step back, running his hand through his long hair. Steve saw his face; it was soft before, now growing a little hard around the edges as his fear slipped back into place. Steve put the razor down with a sigh and held out his hand.

“Come here,” he whispered. Bucky stepped into the bathroom proper, and Steve leaned forward and kissed him; soft, warm like the campfires in Europe, warm like home. He held Bucky’s head, and Bucky’s right hand rested on his hip. Steve had wanted to just touch Bucky like this for so long; unimpeded. It was not fair.

“I don’t want to fight you. Not ever,” he said. It was true. It was not why he did not want to spar him, but this was only a half lie now. “I can’t fight you again, Bucky. Please don’t make me.” _Please._

“I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“You didn’t know.”

Bucky brought his left hand up and cupped Steve’s head, running the metal thumb along his jawline. Steve shuddered. “God you’re perfect. Always have been.”

 _What?_ “What?” He blinked, almost able to forget the metal against his face.

“Fishing for compliments, Stevie?”

“No, I just— ‘always have been’? Since when? Europe, you mean? The serum?”

“Since your mom surprised you with a cake on your 14th birthday. I thought you looked better n’ stardust when you blew out the candles. It’s one of my few good memories, Steve. When I knew I loved you.” Steve gaped at him, warmth pooling in his core. Bucky pressed his forehead to Steve’s. “Because I love you, Stevie.”

_I’m fine._

* * *

Thor found him in Tony’s library. Steve had never actually been to the library before, but now surrounded by the dark wood shelves, and the hundreds of books he thought he could live there. He was almost upset when Thor found his hiding spot, a small reading nook between two shelves.

But Thor smiled, and Steve smiled back, any tension he had left his body slowly. It was easy to smile with Thor. Things were simple with him.

“Barnes is leaving to Ukrainia for a mission tonight with Romanoff. But he and I wondered if you wanted to eat together before his departure.”

“I think it’s just ‘Ukraine’”

“Of course, apologies.”

“Are we just eating or…” he trailed off, a lump of dread in his stomach.

“Alas, I do not imagine we have time for much else.”

“Oh well,” Steve managed to say. He breathed out, relaxing minutely.

“Come, let us dine.”

Steve stood and walked to Thor, who flung a large, warm arm over his shoulder as they stepped out from between the shelves. It was heavy against him, and Steve felt pinned, but felt safe at the same time. He did not know what caused him to do so, but he pulled Thor into him, and leaned back against the shelves. He felt Thor pressed flush against his body, and felt the books behind him shift as he settled in.

“Steve?” He was going to kiss Thor, but something dropped within his stomach, and he just pressed his face into the crook of Thor’s neck. He could not see anything when he was there. He could forget. Thor was warm. “Do not worry,” Thor murmured. “We both know Barnes can handle himself.”

 _That’s not—_ Steve sighed. _So simple._

_I’m fine._

* * *

Steve sat in the community kitchen nursing another cup of coffee. He was only half participating in a conversation between Bruce and Tony about Bucky’s arm. They could not remove it, so all theoretical upgrades did not hold Steve’s interest. He nodded when he was supposed to, and held the warm cup in near his chest as he leaned back in the kitchen chair.

“I mean, I asked him about it,” Tony said. “But he really doesn’t know what he wants to do with the arm yet. The only solid plan we have on our list is to make it lighter, just so there’s less strain on his spine.”

“Okay.”

“And listen, he’s obviously hesitant to have a guy who willingly wears their facial hair like that putter around in a part of his body,” Bruce smirked.

“Don’t be jealous, Bruciepoo.”

“It’s not a part of his—“ Steve stopped himself with a huff.

“Steve?” Bruce asked.

“Sorry— coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.” The two older men stared at him. “What? It’s just— you know what I mean— it’s a prosthetic. It’s not his real body. I mean, it’s advanced but—“

“No, it’s way more than a prosthetic, Steve,” Bruce said. “For all intents and purposes, it _is_ his arm. Brain patterns are the same for both arms, even; as if it was flesh. He can’t tell the difference anymore. It’s a part of his body.”

 _No, it’s not._ “Right, of course.”

“Don’t worry, Steviepoo!” Tony said, walking around and clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll pimp it out real good, you’ll see.”

“Right.”

_I’m fine._

* * *

“Hey, you wanna go for a run in a bit?” Steve asked desperately. He was passing Sam in the hall as he walked back from the offices and conference room. He had not seen Sam in a few days he realized as they walked by each other.

“No, maybe another time,” Sam said not meeting Steve’s eye.

Steve grabbed his arm, stopping him. Sam flinched. Steve pulled back, afraid he hurt him. “Shit, sorry. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, man.” Their eyes met. He was not fine.

“There’s a lot of that going around,” Steve murmured pointedly.

Sam’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, and took a deep breath, looking back at Steve. “Another time, okay? I just need a little time.”

“Yeah.”

_I’m fine._

* * *

_Steve watched frozen as a bullet hit Thor in the neck. The god crashed down onto his knees with a moan, reaching up to the wound. He was bleeding, it was red and gold and too shiny, spilling down his cape, and he looked up at Steve, eyes breaking and—_

_Steve watched frozen as a knife went through Bucky’s gut, over and over, and over. Bucky curled over in on himself and leaned against a wall. His blood was blue and viscous like motor oil, and spilled out over his metal hand, leaking into the cracks and grooves of the plating, and he looked up at Steve, his eyes going dark and—_

_The helicarrier was falling—_

_The earth was cracking under his feet—_

_He was alone in an empty street—_

_Steve screamed but no sound came out._

_“I’m sorry.”_

_They were dead._

_It was snowing._

Steve bolted up in the bed with a scream. Then, frantic, he looked around in the dark room and saw a dark figure by the door. He was covered in black tactical gear and a thick mask and his arm glinted silver in the moonlight from the window. He was coming towards the bed— Steve screamed again and jerked off the bed, crashing into the nightstand and knocking off the lamp. He felt something cut into his back, breaking his skin as he scrambled back into the wall, trying to get to stand madly, his feet slipping on the floor.

“Stevie! It’s alright, it’s me. It’s me!”

“Steven, you’re alright.”

The man in the tactical gear stepped forward, metal hand raised. A large shape moved just outside of his vision coming towards him too. Steve screamed again, the sound tearing itself from his lips, from his lungs, reaching for the lamp, the shield, something, _anything_. His hands found nothing, it was like he was drowning all over again.

“You were dreaming, Stevie. It was just a bad dream.”

“Jarvis, turn on the lights!”

The lights went on and there was Bucky standing a few feet away; Thor was kneeling in front of him, hands up calming, patient. Steve was gasping for air; it was almost like having asthma all over again. It was worse than asthma. He couldn’t focus, he felt sweat on the side of his face. His stomach lurched and—

 _“Oh fuck_ —“

He ran to the bathroom and vomited into the sink because he could not reach the toilet in time. A metal hand rested on the back of his neck as he heaved out the contents of his stomach. It was cold; he could not even bring himself to squirm away from the hard metal against his skin, but he shuddered; the trembling wracked through his body almost violently. The hand felt like ice on his neck and it felt real, and his skin was still flushed and hot from the dream — _from the fear_ — anyway, so it was almost better this way.

He finished, and his knees went weak beneath him and he crumpled to the floor in a heap next to the bathroom cabinets. He let out a string of curses, eyes wet, hands shaking, pulling himself tight into a ball. He heard Bucky run water through the sink, getting rid of his puke, and then he passed Steve down down a glass of water. Steve took it but did not drink.

“Are you alright, love?” Thor asked from the doorway, rubbing the sleep away from his face.

“Just a bad dream.” His throat was raw, the words hurt to say. He did not drink the water.

“Wanna talk about it?” Bucky asked.

“No.” _Sweet god, no._

_I’m fine._

 


	53. Chapter 53

Steve went down to the gym. He was antsy, and had to get away; he had to get out of his skin. Bucky and Thor were so ecstatic when they all woke the morning after their first ‘successful’ night together, shuffling Steve off into the shower to clean dried cum off his skin. Thor joined him under the spray while Bucky made them all coffee. Bucky did not particularly like bathrooms, Steve remembered vaguely. Something about the tile, the drains, the water; something about how it’s easier to wash blood away. That made Steve shudder. Steve had let Thor kiss him deeply under the hot water and tried to kiss back. Thor asked him then if anything was wrong and Steve shook his head, putting a hand on Thor’s naked hip, on Thor’s naked leg where his large scar ran down. _“Just tired,_ ” he had murmured. “ _I’m fine.”_ He could not meet Thor’s eye.

They drank their coffee easily, and their conversation was light. Bucky was smiling; Bucky was so much less scared to be near Steve than he was before. Their knees bumped under the table like they used to back when they lived together at the tenement house before the war. Bucky laughed easily with Thor and the others when they all ate dinner together. He joked around with Clint, and talked at length with Bruce. He was so much more open — _so much more in control._

He was like the Bucky that Steve remembered. The one about to take him to the Stark Expo; there in the flesh, minus one real hand.

Steve had done the right thing, he was certain of it.

But that did not stop the gnawing in his stomach, or the way he flinched whenever he saw metal glint against light these days. Not just from Bucky’s hand. A knife or fork at dinner, the smooth chrome of the kitchen appliances, the faucet of the bathroom sink.

He had to get away. He wanted to scream.

Early morning light streamed through the high windows of the gym. He was about to start wrapping his knuckles to punch the bag but that did not feel like enough today. Instead he walked into the next room and hopped onto the treadmill. Tony had retrofitted all the equipment to withstand gods and super soldiers and men in metal suits but Steve had never actually truly tested them.

Turning the machine on he started at a low jog. Then he made it go faster. Then faster. Then faster still. He was sprinting on the machine, waiting for his breath to catch, waiting for his legs to give out. Ten minutes in he started to feel it, panting a little.

He made it go faster.

All he could hear was blood pounding in his ears and his heart thudding in his chest and his feet stampeding on the treadmill.

“On your left,” said a voice behind him.

_“Shit!”_ Steve stumbled, and his foot caught and he was thrown off the treadmill, head, elbows, kneescracking on the ground as he rolled across the floor.

“Fuck, man! I’m sorry! I thought you heard me come in.”

Sam stared at him as he lay on the floor blinking up at the bright lights. He gasped for oxygen, but even now his heart-rate was steadying itself. The bruises from his crash would be gone in moments. He lay his head back on the floor with a huff.

“It’s alright,” Steve finally said. “Was going too fast anyway.”

“Yeah, Jesus.” Sam turned and looked at the still running treadmill before stepping over and hitting the emergency stop button. “Everything alright?”

“If I said ‘I’m fine’ would you let it go?”

“No. We already know that that’s not gonna fly.”

“Yeah, figured as much.”

“So, not fine?”

Steve thought about the other night; Thor and Bucky’s hands everywhere, him kneeling, sucking, keening, writhing on the bed, the metal hand touching him everywhere, inside of him. _The metal hand._ Steve closed his eyes, shuddering, rubbing his face with his hand, trying and failing to school his features.

“Shit, you’re not okay, Steve. God, and yesterday you asked if I wanted to go on a run and blew you off. I’m sorry, man.”

“It’s fi—“ _it’s fine._ “Fuck.”

Sam sat down next to him on the gym floor. Steve sniffed and clenched his jaw before sitting up to face him.

“What happened?”

“I just—“

He could not even find the words. It felt like screaming trying to find the right words. He was blinking, eyes stinging and that was not fair. The serum should have fixed that.

“I just had a really bad night the other night,” he finally managed to say. “I can’t shake it.”

“Okay,” Sam replied at last.

Steve turned, “‘Okay’? That’s it?”

“Shit man, I’m not your therapist. I’m not gonna make you talk about it if you don’t want to. And I’ve been having a few bad nights too. Besides, you’re not just saying ‘I’m fine’ so I’m gonna take what I can get.”

“Shit,” Steve sniffed again looking down at the floor between his legs. “If I had known it was that easy.”

“It isn’t. But if you don’t want to talk, you’re not gonna talk. If you do want to talk, I’m gonna be here to listen. That’s what’s easy.”

“I can’t—“ _I can’t talk about it._ “Not—“ _not yet._

“It’s cool, man.” He paused. “So, listen, I’m running away from my problems, and it sounds like that might be something you’d be interested in. Wanna come for a drive?”

“Where to?” Steve asked, but he was not actually sure he cared. He was getting in that car with Sam and would drive to the ends of the earth.

“Upstate.”

“Let me get changed.”

* * *

He sent Thor and Bucky a quick text telling him he was going off with Sam and then left. It was so easy. He just left. It was like taking a lungful of air after drowning.

“Grab a nice shirt for dinner,” Sam had said.

“You takin’ me on a date?” Steve replied.

“Something like that.”

They got into one of Tony’s fancier cars — Sam gleeful at the newfangled technology, connecting his phone’s bluetooth, and playing music for Steve to enjoy — and drove off. Easy as that. They drove through the city and then onto the highways, passing through New Jersey and heading north and back into New York state. For the first hour, Steve was just grateful to get out of the tower, but as the second hour creeped by and Sam showing no sign of slowing down Steve finally had to ask;

“Where are we going?”

“Skaneateles, New York.”

“That actually doesn’t answer my question at all.”

“Yeah, I feel ya.”

* * *

Four hours of driving later, they pulled up to a small house, nestled near in a small town, surrounded by trees. It was serene, it was surreal.

“Where are we?” Steve asked.

“Skaneateles, New York,” Sam said with a grin. “Or just outside it.”

“That doesn’t—“ he sighed, looking down at the ground before stepping forward after Sam as he walked towards the house. The little brick path was wet from rain, but now the sun was peaking out of the clouds and leaving the house looking shiny and clean.

Sam did not even knock on the front door, just opened it after wiping his feet on the mat and calling out a loud “Hello! Mom?”

“Hey Sam! I’m in the kitchen! Thought you weren’t gonna make it!” called out a woman’s voice from inside the house. Sam walked forward and Steve followed through the small little hallway, passing dozens of pictures of smiling kids on the walls, high school and college graduation photos; Sam’s AFROTC portrait hung on the wall as well, Sam looking very, very serious. Steve grinned, poking Sam in the ribs as they passed, dodging Sam’s swat at his hand with a chuckle. Sam looked so young.

“Had a change of plans. Seemed like Skaneateles was the place to be.”

“Good, you can grab the casserole pan from the top shelf for me.” They stepped into the kitchen, and Sam immediately darted to the cabinet a small, pudgy woman was pointing at with a spoon, and pulled down a large blue casserole dish. He leaned down and kissed his mother on the cheek as she leaned up, pulling off her reading glasses to clean them on her shirt, before putting them back on and looking back down at her book of recipes.

“I brought a friend as well.” Sam said. “Hope that’s okay. I figured we always have leftovers anyway.” Steve tried to stop himself from smirking and could not even meet Sam’s eye. Sam Wilson, grown man in his thirties, asking his mom if it was okay he brought a friend over. 

“Oh that’s fine,” she replied, not looking up from her book, squinting at one of the ingredients. “You’ve been bringing in strays since you could walk. If they’re spending the night you might have to stick ‘em on the couch though. Your sister said that niece of yours has got some nerdy as all-get-out, white boy named Wade just hanging on her night and day, and if he comes with ‘em, I’m stickin’ him in the guest room next to me. The last thing I need is teens sneaking around up to no good; if he tries anything I’ll hear it and make him sleep on the sidewalk. Hell, might be good to have an extra adult around anyway.”

“The couch is just fine ma’am,” Steve replied.

She finally swung around to look at him then, eyes wide. “Samuel Thomas Wilson, you brought Steve Rogers into this house without telling me! What are you thinking?” She stood up and in an instant, Steve was enveloped in a warm hug around his midsection — the woman could not have been taller than five feet, if he had to guess — and all he could do was awkwardly hug back. “Oh, we’ve heard so much about you! I’m so glad to finally meet you, pull up a stool, we’re gonna chat.”

“I was gonna show him the lake—“

She huffed and looked at her watch. “Fine. I’m gonna make you all some sandwiches, and finish prepping dinner. You all be back here in a bit, or there’ll be hell. I’m not gonna sit alone in this house until your sisters show up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam said.

He walked to the back door holding it open for Steve. Steve turned and waved, “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said.

“I like your manners. You’re much better than some of Sam’s other friends. I mean, you’re no Riley yet, but you’re off to a better start than some of those boys.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“You do that.” She was about to turn back to her book when she looked back, “And Sam, don’t do that stupid thing where you take off your shoes and stick your feet in the water. It’s frigid as all hell.”

“Sure mom.”

* * *

The lake was calm. It was a quick walk down from Sam’s mother’s back door, through a grassy yard, and down a set of wooden stairs onto a dock. Sam took off his shoes, rolled up his pants and sat, swinging his feet over the edge and getting them wet in the water. Steve copied him, settling down and feeling the cool water between his toes. It was cold, but not as terrible as it could have been; warmed a little by the sun peaking through the clouds. It was bracing.

“It’s not so much a lake as glorified pond, but it’s pretty nice,” Sam said after a moment. “Was a big factor in my mom getting this place.”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Sometimes you just gotta get away. I’m almost glad mom resettled in the state, but it takes about the same amount of time to drive from New York to DC as it does to drive from New York to here. Ain’t that a kick in the pants?”

“That sure is something.”

“But here’s nicer. Her place in DC was small too, you know? A little cramped. And I was the only one there after a while. My sisters all ended up moving back up to this area, one’s in Connecticut, another one’s in town here with her kids. I don’t know man; we can live with being New Englanders I guess, but my folks are just plain old New Yorkers. Harlem born and raised. It’s nice to be back at least in the state even if we’re not back where we grew up. Though man upstate isn’t New York you know? And DC sure as hell is no New York.”

“I hear ya. New England isn’t a bad place. I hear up further like Massachusetts is nice. Maine too, but cold, you know? Colder than New York.”

“Yeah, I like Maine, been there a few times. Pretty in the autumn, lobster all day, every day. It’s something else. And cold’s not so bad.”

“I’m not a fan.”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t be. See, you didn’t have any desert tours.”

“Small blessings.”

They grew quiet, kicking their feet in the water. Steve eventually leaned back and laid down on the dock. It was just a little damp under his shirt, but mostly dry. He closed his eyes and the light of the sun filtered through the leaves and filtered through his eyelids, casting weird shadows in front of him. He felt Sam lie down next to him.

“How’re things going between you and Clint? Steve asked.

“Slow.”

“Better’n not at all.”

“Maybe. Not sure I wanna talk about it.”

They grew quiet again. The cool lake tickled Steve’s toes, and the soft sound of water lapping at the shore of the lake mixed with birdsong and wind through the trees.

“You good to spend the night?” Sam asked.

“I can’t think of anything better.”

They fell back into silence. Steve could tell there was something on Sam’s mind.

“Listen, I gotta ask,” Sam finally said. “I don’t need details or anything, but that ‘real bad night’ you had?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied, feeling a twinge of dread fill him.

“Thor and James, they didn’t like—“ Steve could almost picture him struggling to find the words from behind his closed eyelids. “—take advantage of you?”

“You worried about my virtue, Sam?”

“I’m serious.”

Steve felt Sam looking at him and kept his eyes closed.“It wasn’t like that. It was just—“ he sighed, brow furrowing, trying to find the word. “—overwhelming? I guess?”

“Overwhelming like you said stop and they didn’t?” 

“I didn’t tell them to stop.”

“But you wanted to?” _Sam has always been pretty perceptive,_ a small voice in Steve’s mind mused. _No wonder Natasha likes him. Birds of a feather…_

Steve did not respond for a moment. “Maybe.”

“If you had asked them to stop, do you think they would have?”

“Yes. Absolutely. But then—“ he stopped himself. “Then we would have been right back where we started. I didn’t want to let them down, you know? They were— they were enjoying it.”

“And they didn’t know you weren’t?”

“No. I guess not.” Sam didn’t respond right away. “They don’t— they don’t need to know it wasn’t good. For me.”

“Yes, they do.”

“And what?” Steve sat up to face Sam. “Knock Bucky back? After all the progress he’s made? He’s already a mess from all the hurt he’s landed on me anyway from before. That guilt is killing him, I see it everyday. Adding to that won’t help. Hell, knowing I didn’t like it would probably kill Thor too. They’re happy. What’s wrong with that?”

“What’s wrong is you’re not happy. Bucky wouldn’t let his progress come in the way of your wellbeing. He wouldn’t want that. Neither would Thor.”

Steve looked away, out over the lake. The clouds were rolling in and it was turning from blue to grey.

“Fuck my wellbeing,” he finally said, shaking his head.

“Now we’re getting into therapist territory.”

“I don’t have a therapist.”

“Which is part of why I will forever be saying you’re not ready to go back in the field.” Steve scoffed. “Hey man, I just call it like I see it.” Steve did not have the energy to argue. He ran his hands over his face.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sam sighed, and started putting on his shoes. “Come on, you’ve been through enough. We can talk about this more after we’re back in the city. We’ll go in, my mom will feed you sandwiches and talk your ear off. Then she’ll feed you dinner and you’ll meet all my sisters and their husbands and girlfriends and kids and they’ll talk your ear off. Then there’ll be about four hours where they keep asking me about my love life. Under no circumstances are you to mention Nat or Clint. Then we’ll sneak away, sit on the roof, talk shit about the others, again no Nat or Clint, and hit the hay early. Does that sound alright?”

“That sounds real good.”

* * *

Sam brought blankets up to the roof and tossed them up before heaving himself up after them, via a stump, the roof of a small garden shed and finally onto the roof of the house proper. Steve followed him.

“Man, I bet you could just jump up the ten feet to get on top.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my rest day.”

The roof was almost flat, only mildly sloping upwards towards the peak of the house. Sam and Steve could stand easily enough and Steve helped Sam lay out a blanket. They lay down and looked up to the night sky, piling more blankets on top of themselves.

“Man, I could sleep up here.”

“Your mom would kill you. I’ve known her for less than eight hours and I already know she’d kill you. Probably all the while yelling at you for being dumb enough to sleep on a roof with just one blanket in January.”

“But what a way to go.”

Steve snorted. He looked up above him and saw nothing but stars, a crescent moon peeked out from behind a tree. There was no city light pollution here. It was not quite like being back in the 40’s; it was hard to see stars in Brooklyn then too, but only got worse in the seventy years he had missed. But here was like Europe, he thought absentmindedly; Britain when they turned the lights off to avoid the bombers, the forests in Germany around the Alps, the small French towns on the Alsace-Lorraine border in the quiet night.

“Reminds me of Afghanistan; the desert away from the cities” Sam murmured. “You can see way more stars.”

“I was just thinking something like that. Europe in the war.”

Sam let out a low breath. Steve thought he was going to say something but he stayed quiet.

“I know you said not to mention Natasha and Clint but—“

“But you’re gonna anyway,” Sam sighed. “Go on.”

“I just— we never actually got to talk about anything. You got drunk, slept in Thor’s guest room.”

“In my defense, I really wanted to get drunk.”

“So if I ask you how you’re doing…”

“I’ll probably just say ‘I’m fine’ just like you.” Steve quirked an eyebrow at him, and Sam smirked. “See, see, it’s annoying as shit right? It’s bullshit.” Steve laughed looking back up at the stars. “You ain’t even gotta cut off my toe, man.”

“I should’ve never told you that story.”

“It’s so gross.”

“Yeah, I know. Like I said, the candy you made me try, the fizzy stuff? I never thought I’d ever get a frame of reference for how the toe thing felt.”

“Oh god.”

“I’ll keep talking about it!” Steve threatened. “How many hours of the toe story can you handle before you break?”

“Enough!”

Steve giggled and Sam elbowed him in the ribs. They fell quiet once more. The stars were very bright.

“Clint said something,” Sam whispered at last. “When we were trying to— ugh, _you know_ — and I was all awkward and nervous anyway, and I fucked up. Steve, I really fucked up.”

“What did he say?”

“It was— it was just something—“ he stopped, and Steve turned to look at him. “It was stupid. It just—“ Steve waited. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his face. “Fuck. I met Riley when I was learning how to use my wings. He had had a few more weeks of training than me, so he knew what was up. That first time I was out to use the wings I was scared shitless. And Riley was there and he— he said— he said— _fuck._ ”

“Tell me. If you want; it’s alright if you don’t.”

“No it’s— he said, ‘I got you, even if you fall.’ And it was good, and it helped. But then Barton — Clint — we were— he was literally about to, you know, _fuck me,_ _for the_ _first time_.” Steve’s eyes widened unintentionally at that image. “And I was lying there scared shitless, he said the same damn thing. The exact same words, same inflection even. It was uncanny. I freaked out. I freaked the fuck out man. And Nat was there—“

“She was?”

“She likes to watch.”

“Oh wow.” Another image Steve was not expecting.

“Yeah. Didn’t need the extra pressure, but I like her, so you know, what’re you gonna do?” Steve felt Sam shrug next to him.

“No kidding.”

“And like, I freak out. I kicked him off me so hard I think I bruised his rib, if not cracked it, ran to the bathroom, trying not to puke; it felt like I was dying, I couldn’t breathe. And I locked the door behind me; they were standing outside asking to come in, and to help and I didn’t let them in. I spent the whole fucking night in the bathroom, and I couldn’t sleep and I couldn’t think. It’s a wonder they didn’t break down the door.”

“Did you tell them what happened?”

“No. And believe me I know how bad that sounds when I just told you you gotta talk shit out with your guys. Like, the next morning I finally got out of the bathroom; Clint was sleeping outside the door on the floor. Natasha was gone, who knows where. And, fuck man, you know what I did? It’s so stupid…”

“What?”

“I just said ‘Hey man,’ at him, like nothing was wrong. I grabbed clean clothes, made myself some coffee and went up to get work done; meet with Rhodes about some Air Force correspondent stuff. Like nothing was wrong.”

“Christ, Sam.”

“I know.”

“Shit.” They did not say anything for a while. Steve reached over and patted Sam on the arm through the blanket. A breeze blew through and they both shivered. “You and I are a fucking mess, Wilson.”

“Yeah, but I’m your mess, and you’re mine.” He sighed. “You ready to head in?”

“Maybe in a minute. The stars—“ he trailed off, still looking up at the night sky. Going back inside meant going to sleep, which meant being that much closer to going back to the tower in the morning.

“Yeah, I don’t want to go in yet either.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam Wilson, my favorite dude. It's chapters like this that make me wonder why I didn't just write a Sam/Steve fic. But I love the idea of them struggling with their own shit parallel to one another. They're besties with kind of weirdly similar storylines. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea how to pronounce Skaneateles. It's a real town in New York state though.


	54. Chapter 54

_“Oh Steve. You look so tired.” Peggy ran her hand through his hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. It felt like heaven._

_“I’m fine, Pegs.”_

_“Don’t lie.”_

_He did not respond, looking up from where they lay down on the bed, under the stars above Sam’s mother’s house, his head on her chest. Her brown hair was glowing, her face was both smooth and wrinkled. Her shirt was hiked up a bit over her stomach. She had the same scar on her hip that Natasha had. Steve kissed it._

_“I miss you, Peggy.”_

_She hummed._

_“I’m sorry, Peggy. It’s my fault, it’s all my fault. I’m sorry about everything.”_

_Her eyes weren’t hers anymore. They were black, they were bleeding; “You should be.”_

Steve woke up with a jolt, a hand on his shoulder, cold air on his face.

“Come on, dude,” Sam said. They were still on his roof, but the stars were gone. Clouds were rolling in, blocking out the light. “You fell asleep. Let’s head in, we can camp out on the floor in my bedroom.” _We can put the couch cushions on the floor, like when we were kids. It’ll be fun._ “Forget you sleeping on the couch, man.”

“Too soft anyway,” Steve replied, steadying his breathing, heart thudding in his chest.

“Yeah.”

* * *

_Steve sighed, wiping sweat off his brow as he stepped out of the elevator. He walked into the living room and froze. There on the floor were Bucky and Thor, fucking wildly; naked, trapped in an animal frenzy, biting so hard they drew blood. Red dripped down their mouths. I’m sorry. When they caught sight of Steve they froze for one heartbeat, two, three. Steve could not breathe._

_They pounced. Steve tried to fight them off, but they took hold him, sending him crashing to the ground on his chest._

_Don’t break, don’t break, don’t break._

_Steve whimpered as they tore off his clothes, as they flipped him over, pressing him into the snow as Bucky took Steve’s hand, raising it to his mouth as Steve struggled to pull away. Thor held him tight, latching his teeth into the flesh where Steve’s neck met his shoulder. Steve screamed but no sound came out. Bucky sniffed at Steve’s palm, his wrist; two flesh hands holding tight, two sets of real finger nails digging into Steve’s skin. Steve screamed but no sound came out. He was crying, kicking and punching. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Thor clawed at his neck breaking the skin. Bucky bit down on Steve’s left hand, teeth sinking into the flesh under his thumb, red blood running down his chin. Steve screamed but no sound came out. He kept fighting to get away but his limbs were slow and sluggish, and—_ creak.

Steve shot up at the sound, breathing heavily but silently as he strained to hear where it had come from. Sam was standing by the door, gun drawn. Their eyes met and he lifted a finger to his mouth, keeping Steve quiet.

“Someone’s in the house,” Sam whispered. He was mouthing the words for all intents and purposes; it was only because of his enhanced hearing that Steve heard it at all. Steve nodded and silently pulled his Glock from his bag. He did not even think to bring it when he had left with Sam in the morning, it was just there. He stood up and behind Sam as they peered out the crack in the door.

_Creak._

They stepped out, guns drawn, and stalked down the hall. Steve’s heart pounded in his chest. Sam met Steve’s eyes once more, and in one fell swoop they turned the corner ready to fire at—

“Wade?!”

Sam and Steve were staring at the young teenage boy who had tagged along with Sam’s niece for dinner. He was already a pale, switch of a kid, ginger and freckly, but now his face was ghost-white in fear. He was petrified, staring at the two soldiers with guns drawn at him. Sam and Steve stepped back, lowering their guns.

“Shit, Wade! What the hell are you doing?! You scared the shit outta us!” Sam hissed under his breath.

“I scared the shit outta you?! Man, what the fuck?!” the boy hissed back.

“Watch your damn language!”

“You guys have guns! Watch your damn guns!”

“Okay, okay, stop! Stop!” Steve whispered. “Everybody calm down.”

The three of them stood catching their breath.

“Wade, go back to bed. You’re clearly up to no good creeping around outside the girls’ room. Just go back to sleep and we’ll let this go. And just—“ Steve huffed a sigh. He had no choice. He turned on ‘Captain America.’ “Try to make better decisions, son.” Sam snorted next to him.

“Yes sir.”

“And be grateful you didn’t wake up my mom,” Sam added as Wade walked down hall. “This coulda ended a lot worse.” Sam sighed and waved him off. Steve’s heart-rate was slowing, but the edge of adrenaline still left his skin buzzing as he and Sam looked at one another in silence, the taste of it bitter in his mouth. Sam shook his head, “Remind me to call my therapist when we’re back at the tower. I think I’m worse off than I thought.”

“I was right there along with you.”

“Well you’re pretty bad off yourself so that’s not really a comfort.”

“Let’s go back to bed.”

* * *

_He stood on a balcony, looking off into a vast nebula swirling beyond an ocean. A man strode up next to him. Steve simultaneously saw through his eyes out towards the horizon, and saw himself from far away, standing next to the man with gold armor. Steve was wearing a cloak and armor of all things; he would have looked a little like Thor were his cloak red and not blue. It was snowing. He pulled the cloak tight around him._

_“I have seen you, Steven Grant Rogers,” said the man. “I have been watching you and James Barnes and Thor Odinson from my perch at the cliff of the universe. I am sorry for your troubles. They are many and they are heavy.”_

_“Who are you?”_

_“I am Heimdal.”_

_Steve blinked. “You guard the bifrost.”_

_“I do.”_

_“And I’m in Asgard,” Steve looked around; saw himself looking around, staring up at the high columns and floating gardens. The world was glowing around him. It was beautiful._

_“You were not sleeping too well anyway. I bring you news.”_

_“News of what?”_

_“You will be here soon, in the waking world. Bring all seven of the orbs.”“Seven? We only have three.”_

_“Bring all seven.”_

_“Why?” Steve turned and faced Heimdal. “The orbs are Asgardian?”_

_“No, they are much greater than that.”_

_“What are they?”_

_“Seeds.”_

_Steve tried not to roll his eyes. That was inordinately unhelpful. “Okay.”_

_“They have been corrupted by the hands that have taken them. Bring all seven.”_

_“When?”_

_“Soon. You will know.”_

_Heimdal was gone, Steve stood alone on the balcony. The gold, the glowing, the life was suddenly gone. It was crumbling ruin. A white ghost of a woman walked in between the columns, blood running down her dress—_

Steve’s eyes opened, and the early morning light filtered in through the blinds in Sam’s room. He sat up and saw Sam sitting up as well, rubbing the sleep from his face and yawning. He nodded at Steve and stretched his arms over his head. Steve blinked, thinking of the dream.

There was a light knock on the door, “Sammy, mom’s making waffles. Better wake up if you want any.”

“Don’t call me ‘Sammy.’”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Thanks Alicia.” He yawned once more and looked over to Steve. “You alright, man?”

He stared ahead of him, processing. “Yeah, yeah. Just a weird dream.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life Peggy would never. Real life Peggy is perfect.


	55. Chapter 55

Sam’s mom made them waffles from scratch. Then made enough waffles for the entire Avengers team, putting them in a massive tupperware container that Steve carried on his lap the whole drive back. They were both fairly quiet the whole ride, though they went through a drive-thru Starbucks at the half-way point and Sam bought Steve his first frappuccino — Cinnamon Dolce; Steve liked it, but was not sure he would choose it regularly. 

They finally pulled up to the tower and drove into the parking garage underneath. With a reluctant sigh they both got into the elevator to return to their respective apartments.

“Hold the door,” a woman’s voice called out to them. Sam put his hand on the door, and the sound of small pattering feet came closer and closer until a small dark-haired woman stood in front of them.

Steve swallowed.

It was Jane Foster.

Sam smiled and nodded at her. She stepped in, meeting Steve’s eye and he flushed, red as a beet in an instant.

“Steve,” she said, completely neutral.

“Ma’am.”

“You gonna introduce us?” Sam asked after a beat.

“Right! I’m sorry. This is Dr. Foster, Jane Foster. She’s Thor’s girlfriend.”

“Oh wow, the astrophysicist right? Welcome to New York.” He stuck out his hand. “Sam Wilson, newbie Avenger.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Jane said with a genuine smile.

Then they fell quiet. Steve stared at the floor and Sam and Jane stared at door ahead of them. They reached Natasha’s floor first and Sam got out, reaching over to Steve to pull the tupperware of waffles away. Steve clung to it for a moment before finally acquiescing and handing it over. Sam left the elevator and Steve and Jane were alone.

Steve opened his mouth to speak but Jane held up a finger, stopping him. “Thor told me about what the three of you have been doing, and I’m extremely upset, and it’s better if you don’t talk.”

Steve’s heart pounded.

“Thor said you were okay with the three of us—“

“I don’t mind that you’re doing it, I mind _how_ you’re doing it.”

Steve gaped at her. “Umm. Thor said—“

“Does not matter what Thor said, he has royally fucked up.”

* * *

The elevator stopped on Steve’s floor and the door opened. Steve, ever the gentleman, gestured for her to go first, and followed a safe distance behind. Thor beamed at the sight of Jane and rushed out from the kitchen to hug her. He froze in his tracks when she, again, raised a single finger. Steve snuck around them and pulled Bucky back and out of the way.

“Jane, what brings you here? You did not say you were coming!” His smile had faded a little, but when you had a smile like Thor’s it took a lot to wipe it entirely from your face.

“Dr. Stark and Dr. Banner asked me to come in from Sweden to work with them on a problem. I was going to call in, but I got your last email.”

Thor blinked. “You say that as though I have committed some grave sin, Jane.”

“You have.”

“Pardon me?” His eyebrow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m talking about the sex you’ve been having with those two. I did not talk to you about BDSM for you to use it the way you’ve been using it.”

_What?_

“What are you on about?”

She looked away, clenching her jaw, clearly trying to school her breathing. When she turned back to look at Thor, Steve could have sworn he saw red in her eyes. Thor paled. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me, Thor?!”

Steve and Bucky stood in the kitchen watching on through the door into the living room as Jane Foster jabbed a tiny finger into the meat of Thor’s chest. Thor winced at the sharp poke and Steve and Bucky winced along with him. They were very quiet, half-hiding behind the doorframe as they watched, hoping the astrophysicist would not notice them. Jane was a tiny whirlwind of anger.

Steve was secretly so grateful she was here.

“What in gods name did you think you were doing? Were you just not listening the entire time I told you you had to keep things safe, sane and consensual if you’re going to be doing this sort of stuff? Like, _Jesus_ , that’s the fucking mantra of the whole BDSM community. Like, you need to talk shit out! You’re throwing psychologically damaging masochistic, power-play bullshit at two ninety-year-old veterans, including a POW brainwashed assassin! Without talking about it! Just jump right in! Yeah! That’s a good idea! Unbelievable!”

“I thought it was what they required! We were working through things!”

“Oh my god, no! They _require_ years of therapy, retirement and unlimited amounts of ice cream! That’s like the bare minimum of their requirements. My god, did you even read your last email? Did you even think to mention safewords? You’re three superheroes all with PTSD. Safewords seems like the thing to do at that juncture right? And you did not have safewords! Am I’m not crazy, am I? I know I told you about safewords. Do you think things are fine? because nothing is fine enough to not have safewords!”

“I never said things were fine!”

“You’re damn right they’re not fine! Hell, Sargent Barnes nearly strangled Steve to death! That’s not fine. I’m not sure any of what you have done since the three of you first hooked up has been fine.”

_God bless that tiny scientist._

“That was an accident! He was not in his right mind.”

“Because he IS NOT in his right mind. None of you are in your right mind. Especially you, Thor! And here you go thinking that you can fuck them both better. That you can all fuck each other better, but that’s not how relationships work! You’re such a guy. All three of you! All thinking with your stupid penises, and you’re sitting there saying ‘Well Jane told me about this,’ as if that makes what you’re doing okay! Newsflash, not okay. Not the tiniest bit okay! In fact, it makes me culpable!”

She put her hands on her head, eyes wide. “Oh my god! Who are we going to blame when three superheroes have a mental breakdown because they got thrown into borderline abusive sex? Let’s blame Jane Foster! The astrophysicist who said it was a good idea!”

Steve finally stepped forward, but only just barely, “Maybe we should just calm down,” he started, but she cut him off with a raised finger and he paused mid-step, trapped in her glare.

“No. You’re in trouble too, Steve. I’m jet-lagged, and freaked out, and none of the data Tony Stark sent me makes any sense, and I’m pissed off and all three of you are the reason why. You should know better, Steve. I thought you were the reasonable one.” Bucky snorted, but then paled when he caught Jane’s eye. “The only one I still like right now, but just barely, is you, Sargent Barnes, just because I don’t actually know him and I thought maybe he couldn’t be as dumb as the two of you, and don’t think he’s not in trouble too.”

She took a deep, whole body breath. “I’ve got to talk to Stark and Dr. Banner about physics. You three better pray it calms me down because we are going to have a long, in-depth talk about how much you have all royally fucked up. It’ll be a BDSM101 crash course, and I’ll need at least two beers to get through it.”

She picked up the purse she abandoned on the floor and started towards the elevator door.

“Jane,” Thor called out. “I am sorry. I am pleased your journey was safe. It does me well to see you, even if you are angry with me, with us.”

Her face softened just a little bit and she huffed out a sigh, eyes just a little wet. “It’s good to see you too, Thor. God help me, come here.” They stepped together, and Thor bent down, pressing his lips against hers. It was as if the room itself let out a great sigh. “The flight was fucking awful.” Thor patted her on the back.

“There, there. I love you,” Thor murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. “The physics will help.”

“I love you too.”

“We will talk later.”

She nodded and stepped onto the elevator, leaving the three of them alone.

* * *

They sat on the couch, staring ahead at the glass fireplace. Thor between them looking only mildly distressed, given the circumstances. Steve remembered the way he and Jane were when he met them in DC that one time. The look in Thor’s eyes when he looked at her during dinner was something else. Warmth and passion, almost the way Steve saw him looking at Bucky sometimes, but there was still something else. _Soulmates_ is what Jane had said one time. They just clicked. 

“So, she is very scary,” Bucky said at last.

“She is a magnificent, terrifying thing to behold, especially when her ire is up. This has been true since I met her. That is part of why I love her.”

“Like, Natalia is a force to be reckoned with but I didn’t think I’d be scared of the tiny, nerdy astrophysicist.”

“She was really mad, Thor,” Steve said. His chest felt looser at her outburst though. As if he had a champion on his side, though what she was defending him from he could not name.

“Yes, she was.”

“What exactly did we do wrong? She’s not mad that we’re sleeping together, is she?” Bucky asked. “You’re not a thing anymore, are you?”

Steve shook his head at the last question, but thought about the first. He had an idea of what they had done wrong. The memory was so confusing; half erotic, half horror in his mind. But it had helped Bucky, and given him some control back. The morning after he had been so much more full of life than Steve had seen him in ages. It was almost like it used to be. And Steve would not trade that for the world. He would do it again and again if it made Bucky better. Of that he was certain. _And they had not even done that much,_ his mind supplied. _It wasn’t that bad, was it? It made Bucky better._ But the idea that there had been something fundamentally wrong with the way they went about it, rather than just unease in Steve’s mind, was a comfort.

“No, we are still in union,” Thor replied. “She and I are free to pursue other relations outside of ours.”

“I thought she was your ex?” Then, answering his own question, Bucky cocked his head to to the side. “She may be after this.”

“Oh, by the Norns,” Thor swatted at Bucky with a pillow falling back onto the couch heavily. “Do not say such things.”

“It’ll be fine,” Bucky said, patting him on the leg, though he did not look entirely convinced. “Hopefully the physics will calm her down.”

“God willing,” said Steve. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to Thor, but at that moment Jarvis sounded through the apartment.

“Captain Rogers, your presence is requested in Laboratory 2 regarding Project Kermit.”

“I’ll be right there.” He stood up and looked at the two of them on the couch, face flushing at a sudden, uncomfortable thought. “Is she going to ask— are we going to tell her what we’ve been doing… _in detail?_ ”

“If she asks, I will tell her the truth,” Thor replied. “Though I do not believe she would aim to make you uncomfortable, Steven. Worry not.”

“I’m just not sure that’s the sort of stuff you should talk about with a lady.”

“She’s not a lady, Stevie,” Bucky said. “She’s like Thor. She’s a god damn storm with skin.”

Thor grinned at that, and Steve waved them off, walking to the elevator.

* * *

Steve stepped into the lab and saw Jane, Bruce and Tony staring up at one of the larger glass panels, looking at mountains of data that Steve could not even begin to comprehend. He figured when math stopped using numbers and started using letters he was just a tiny bit out of his element, if only for having never been taught; he was one step further from comprehension when the letters turned greek; and he was then out of the loop completely when they started using symbols that Steve was pretty sure Tony just made up.

They turned at his arrival, and if Jane was angry still, she certainly did not show it. Science and professionalism were clearly more important here. Steve sent up a small prayer of thanks to whatever deity wanted to take credit for that.

“Steviepoo, meet the latest additions of the Project Kermit team.”

“For the love of god, don’t call me Steviepoo.”

“It is now the four of us who know about our funny glowing orbs, and at this point I think it’s only mere days if not hours before we tell the rest of the team. Do you have any objections?”

Steve would tell them all about the dream when they were all together then. He thought of Asgard, the woman covered in blood, the crumbling city. _Corrupted by the hands that have taken them._

“Sounds fine. Are we learning anything?”

“Yes. Gamma-monoxide orbs are stupid.” Tony looked bitter as he turned back to the screen. Jarvis was running another test and numbers flashed across the glass, rising and dropping and changing without any discernible pattern.

“I could have told you that. It’s an alien artifact. I haven’t been having much luck with those since the good old days.”

“This is true. You’re smarter than you look, Stevie, I’ll give you that.”

“Don’t call—“ Steve sighed. “So Dr. Foster, what actually brought you here? Gamma radiation isn’t your specialty, I thought.”

“Call me Jane, please,” she said. The implied _my soulmate boyfriend is fucking you, we’re on a first-name basis at this point,_ did not fall on deaf ears. Steve nodded, trying to hide any embarrassment.

“Your orb is stupid,” she replied with a huff. Steve raised his eyebrows, looking for confirmation from Bruce or Tony and all three of the scientists shrugged. “There’s really no other way to describe it. The data Tony’s been gathering doesn’t make sense. That’s why I’m here. It’s has weird bi-frost-esque elements, sure, but then when we try to test those directly they stop showing up.”

“Are we going to ask Thor about that?”

“Eventually,” Tony said. “We’re going to exhaust all science options first.”

“Are you scared he’ll just know what it is and have all the answers?” Steve asked Tony with a grin.

“Hush.”

“Do you have any new theories about what the orb does?” _They’re seeds,_ said Heimdal’s voice unhelpfully in his mind.

“I think we’re still working with ‘energy source’ but I’m not sure if it’s for weapons or for something else.”

“Something else?”

“The data coming through has bi-frost patterns like I said, but on a much smaller scale.”

“Which means the orbs could be fueling some sort of portal maybe?”

“Good boy,” Tony said casually, tossing Steve an energy bar. Steve jolted at words and almost missed catching the bar, fumbling with it against his chest. “See, I told you guys he was smarter than he looked.”

“You’re the only one who doubted that, Tony.” Bruce said fondly with a smile.

Steve knew his face was red, but thankfully neither of the two other men knew why. They kept talking about the data, opening up charts, and running through equations with Jarvis. However, Jane was giving him a curious look. Steve met her eye, but barely, as she quirked an eyebrow at him and mouthed the words, _good boy?_ Her eyes glinted with the softest flash of kind humor and Steve flushed once more, certain that by this point he was red as a beet. He turned away running his hand through his hair as Jane turned back and joined in with Bruce and Tony’s conversation.

“Alright, if you don’t need me.” Steve awkwardly waved to Bruce and Tony who barely looked at him. He met Jane’s eye one more time. “Dr. Foster, thank you for coming. Just—“ he bit his lip. “Thanks.”

She peered at him for a moment. “Let me walk you back to the elevator.” He nodded and they stepped away from Tony and Bruce, completely unnoticed. She touched him gently on the elbow and he found he could not make eye contact with her. “Steve? Are you okay?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’m glad you’re here. And I’m—“ he ran a hand through his hair. “God— I’m just—“

“Steve. _Are you okay?_ ”

Steve met her eye then and bit his lip. _Shit, shit, shit._ “Can we talk? Before you talk to Thor and Bucky?”

She looked at him, and Steve felt suddenly very naked under her gaze. “Yes,” she finally said with an nod. “Give me about half an hour or so here to set up some tests?”

“Meet in the gym? Jarvis will take you there.”

“Okay Steve.”

He nodded and got into the elevator and headed to the gym, not realizing the energy bar in his hand was crushed down beyond recognition until the deed was done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jane is here! My beautiful, tiny potty mouthed domme! Oh happy day! Callou callay! :D


	56. Chapter 56

“Holy cow, are those lightsabers?” Jane’s voice behind him asked, echoing into the gym. Steve turned from the punching bag and looked towards the weapons rack she was walking to. He started towards her, unwrapping his knuckles, and pushing his hair back from his face.

“Yeah, I think that’s what Tony called them. From the movies, right?”

“Yeah, Steve, from the movies.” She smiled and picked one up, then tossed another across the room to Steve as he walked over. “Come on, this is formative stuff. Star Wars was a big factor in me getting into Astrophysics.”

“No kiddin’? I liked the older three movies well enough, but couldn’t get into the newer ones. Probably would’ve gotten a kick out of all of ‘em as a kid though.”

“Wait, can we play with these, or will they actually cut off our limbs?”

“I can adjust the light sabers to force field settings for the purposes of sparring or play,” said Jarvis’s voice above them.

“Let’s do that.”

“Of course, Doctor Foster.”

“I like him.”

“Yeah, Jarvis is pretty great,” said Steve.

“I appreciate the sentiment, though I am merely doing my job. May I be of any further assistance?”

“No Jarvis, I think we’re alright. Maybe keep our conversation private? Let us know if anyone’s coming?” Steve asked.

“Of course. Privacy mode activated.”

Steve held the lightsaber in his hand, testing the weight and heft before turning it on. His was green, Jane’s was purple. She laughed when she saw them light up, and swung it around in a way that was almost practiced.

“This is too cool.”

“You look like you know how to handle that.”

“I took fencing in college. And I’m a massive fucking nerd, Steve. I’m not above admitting this isn’t my first lightsaber fight, but those were plastic.”

“Right.”

She tapped her lightsaber to Steve’s and jumped with a small squeak when they zapped, sizzling in the air momentarily.

“Too cool!” She whispered to herself.

They started wandering a little aimlessly, whacking the lightsabers together like kids. Steve actually realized that he had pretty much no experience with any kind of swordplay. He kept lifting his arm up as if he had his shield, and the lightsaber would touch it, feeling half like a puff of air and half like a wall against his skin. They were quiet for a while, merely tapping away.

“What are you going to ask the others? Thor and Bucky?” Steve finally asked. They did not stop spinning across the gym floor.

“Everything. I’m gonna ask what you were doing, who was subbing, which I’m thinking might’ve been you, whether or not they checked in with you, whether they were doing what you wanted—“

“Well, it was what Bucky wanted. He— he needed the control.”

Her face fell and she paused for a moment, holding the lightsaber at her side. “Oh Steve, that’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

“Yeah, well, that’s how it happened.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Her expression was genuine; Steve blinked at her for a moment in silence. They resumed their sparring, spinning a little faster around the floor. Jane was comfortable with a sword but not combat, and Steve was comfortable with combat but not a sword. It would not be fair to say they were evenly matched — she was all of five feet tall and he was a super soldier — but at least in terms of coordination, they were on almost equal footing. And the two of them were both intelligent and strategically minded; they started keying off of each other, learning how the other was working. It was almost fun— it would have been fun if the conversation were not so uncomfortable.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked after a moment.

“That’s not— I’ve got the serum, it takes a lot to actually hurt me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t—“ he cut himself off with a sigh.

“God, you know Thor said you were stubborn, and for some reason I didn’t believe him.” She swung the sword in a slow, high arc close to Steve’s head; easy enough to dodge, but a change from the sword tapping they were doing, shaking Steve from falling into a stupor. “He said his ‘goats on Asgard were less foolhardy and headstrong sometimes.’” She lowered her voice in a very good impersonation of Thor and Steve snorted.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should, he loves [those goats](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanngrisnir_and_Tanngnj%C3%B3str).” She stepped back and they both caught their breath for a moment. “So, did they hurt you?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like?”

He stared at her, trying to find the word. “Overwhelming,” he said at last, softly. Same way he described it to Sam. “That’s all. Just a lot. It was fine.” _I’m fine._

“I see.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t actually know you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Okay, listen. I’m a little too old to deal with boys who can’t talk out their problems, and frankly, you’ve got a lot of problems, even without bad BDSM etiquette.”

“Well so do Bucky and Thor.”

“The existence of their problems does not nullify yours.”

“Yes it d—“ he caught himself, but the implication dropped and Steve watched her face turn from miffed to exasperated.

“Jesus Christ, Steve. I thought Thor said they were giving you a break. You’re a fucking mess.”

“Gee, thanks.” He scoffed and looked away. “Why do you know so much about _this_ anyway? You’re an upstanding dame— Christ, gal— lady!– _woman_.”

She chuckled. “I can see why Thor likes you. Six-foot-two, three billion pounds of muscle, and a complete cutiepatootie.”

“ _Cutiepatootie?_ No one’s ever called— oh my god— it’d feel like lying if I didn’t mention that this is starting to come off like a bad, weird dream at this point. And I’ve been having a lot of those lately.”

“Well people have an increase in nightmares after trauma.”

“I did die a few times.”

“And had a bad sexual experience on top of everything else it sounds like. Trauma is trauma.”

“That doesn’t— that wasn’t trauma, that was just—“

She sighed and stopped his argument with a pointed look. Then she swung the lightsaber around with a spin. “Grip up; you’re favoring your left side. You’ll never save the galaxy that way.” 

Steve blinked, barely blocking the blow. He huffed, and they began their sword tapping once more, half-dance, half game. “You didn’t answer my question. About why you, you know, know stuff.”

“Oh, well. Being a domme is just something I’m good at; something I enjoy. I had to pay off my student loans somehow.”

Steve slipped, and Jane hit him on the arm with the lightsaber as he gaped at her.

“You did that sort of thing… _professionally?_ ”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Steve. It’s not like I was in a dungeon putting people on the racks in thigh-high boots, a leather corset and pasties, cracking a whip or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

Steve stepped back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t need that kind of image. Especially not of Thor’s best girl. Does this count as trauma? This conversation starting to feel like trauma.”

She snorted. “Don’t be a baby.” She looked him over with a smile. “Yup. You’re officially a cutiepatootie. ‘Best girl.’ I gotta tell Thor you called me that. He’d love it. This is incredible. Massive blond cutepatooties colliding, it’s kismet; I love it.”

“Do you call Thor a cutiepatootie? Because that’s just—“

“Have you met Thor? How could I not? It’s fine! He’s just a guy in the end. The god thing gets in the way of people realizing that. I kinda like to think of him as a three thousand year-old guy in his twenties. Same way you and Sargent Barnes are ninety year-old guys in your twenties. I think that’s why you all get along. Why you all fell in love.”

She turned off the lightsaber and sat down where she stood, flopping easily to the padded floor. Steve followed her down, crossing his legs, fiddling a little with the cloth of his pants. Her face grew serious, and she turned her whole body to face him. She held out her hand over his arm, met his eye and waited for him to nod before setting it down against his skin. She was warm, almost as warm as Thor. _Soulmates._

“Look, I know this is uncomfortable, but you gotta tell me what happened.”

“Jane, I can’t—“

“You can’t tell me? or Thor and Bucky can’t know?” She caught Steve’s eye. He nodded. “Okay. Done. They’ll never know from me. You gonna tell me what happened?” He bit his lip, staring down at the floor. “Come on, it’s like a bandaid, just rip it off.”

“It’s not the details,” Steve said after a pause. “It’s just, if they know that I didn’t like some of what they did, they’d be devastated.” 

“But you didn’t mind all of it?”

“No. Some of it was… good.” He flushed a little, hating himself for it. He vowed to give Dr. Erskine a stern talking to when he finally died about not fixing his stupid blushing. 

“That’s good. That’s fine. Go on.”

Steve stuttered through that night with Jane. It was awkward and uncomfortable. But by the end of it, Steve could see why Thor loved Jane so much though. She was patient, she was quick to lighten the mood when it was needed. She made him laugh. More importantly she explained how things were supposed to be. She chuckled at Steve’s ‘all or nothing’ attitude and he gaped at the sheer complexity of the world she was a part of.

“You’re going to have to tell them one day that it wasn’t good for you, you know that, right?”

“But not yet.”

“No. Not yet. Is there anything else they should know?”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tell them.”

“I’m not going to tell them why you’re uncomfortable, but I’m perfectly capable of dissuading them from doing the things that made you uncomfortable again. I’m nothing if not discrete. If you’re not going to address the problem up front, at least tell me what do you need changed to make it better?”

Steve paused, staring at her for a moment. “Anything?”

“ _Everything_ , Steve. That’s the whole point.”

He swallowed. He had a hard time saying the words, though they were sitting easily in his mind. “I don’t like Bucky’s arm. The metal arm. He— he touched me, you know, _there_ , with it. I thought that’d be the thing to kill me.”

“Okay. That won’t happen again. I’ll make sure of it.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

She smiled. “Learned that from Thor.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the whole part about them fighting with the fake lightsabers completely forgetting that Natalie Portman played a key role in the Star Wars prequel films. Whoops.


	57. Chapter 57

Jane made quick work of their education on the topic of BDSM; sitting them on the couch and drinking a beer and very plainly, very clearly telling them everything they needed to know. Steve had heard most of it earlier, and he spent the time watching Thor and Bucky’s reactions. As promised, it seemed as if they had no idea anything had gone wrong between the three of them the other night. Jane was clear, judgement-free, patient and tactful. She set up safety nets for things Steve did not even realize were issues that night. With surprising poise she instilled the necessity to check in, for all three of them to use safe-words, to start a list of hard-limits, to engage in excessive aftercare. — _“No, you guys don’t need to feed me when it’s over,”_ Steve protested. _“Yes they do,”_ insisted Jane. _“Don’t fight me on this one. You will lose.” “Everybody is always trying to feed me anyway, it’d be weird.” “It’s only weird if you make it weird.”_ — There was also the suggestion that they not have ‘orders’ in the bedroom at all, at least for a while. Now that whatever had been keeping Bucky from touching Steve was gone, they might want to just slow down.

“This is not a perfect fix, you’re going to have to evolve with this and figure out what works for you,” Jane finished. She made it sound so easy. _Simple_.

“Oh, and that hand isn’t going inside anyone,” Jane added easily, looking pointedly at Bucky’s metal arm.

“Excuse me?”

“See that plating? Stuff gets caught in that, skin can be pinched by them. That’s not safe inside of anyone. Just callin’ it like I see it, Sargent Barnes. I’d recommend just using your flesh hand for fingering.”

“Um, what if we already—“ Bucky looked pale, glancing between Steve and Jane and Thor. Steve dutifully stared at the table.

“You’re fine. Just maybe don’t do it again. It’s just really not safe.”

“Okay.”

Steve did not let out a huge sigh of relief; that would be too telling. But he met Jane’s eye and was able to return her soft, quick smile.

Now that the awkward conversation was over they all settled down comfortably, chatting a little about this and that. As if they had not been discussing their sex lives in detail just moments ago; as if Jane had not effectively saved Steve, even if it was only from his own stubbornness. Steve sank deeper into the couch, feeling tired, exhausted even as the others talked around him.

“Can I leave you two for the evening?” Thor asked when Jane left to powder her nose. “I wish to take Jane to dinner.”

“I think we can handle that,” Bucky said softly. “We’ll keep Jarvis on standby just in case, call the others if I—“

“You won’t,” Steve said. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. We’ll be great.” Bucky smiled at him and Steve smiled back.

* * *

Thor and Jane dressed up and went out for dinner. Steve and Bucky were alone, truly alone, for what felt like the first time. For a little while they tried to be normal; tidying up, filling out paperwork — ‘try’ being the operative word; Steve felt like the words were not even in English on the page anymore — but then found themselves standing in the living room facing one another. Steve hated that his heart was thudding harder in his chest than it should have, and that his limbs felt too heavy, but he loved the way Bucky’s warm hand slipped into his own. The apartment was deathly quiet, absolutely still. Steve wondered what would happen if he closed his eyes; sucked into the vacuum of silence. Would he even cease to exist?

Bucky ran a thumb over Steve’s knuckle, pulling him gently from his weird, racing thoughts, but only for a moment. His touch was a brief flash of clarity before everything went dark again. It felt wonderful for a second but then his muscles almost ached with unwarranted exhaustion.

“So what do you wanna do?” Bucky asked softly.

“I don’t—,” Steve replied. “I—“ he could not find the words he wanted. He did not even know if he would know they were the right words when they left his lips.

“What is it?”

Steve felt Bucky’s skin against his own where their hands entwined. It almost left him light-headed, reeling in his mind at the contact. He felt unsteady, uncertain and he hated that. Before the war with Bucky he was so sure of things. Now he could not piece his thoughts together, now he could not even move. _“You are lost,”_ Thor’s voice said in his mind from long, long ago. It had stung when Thor had said it then, but now he thought perhaps Thor had been right all along.

“Stevie? You’re shaking.”

“What?” He looked down at his free hand and saw it was indeed trembling at his side. He frowned. “I don’t—“

“Hey,” Bucky whispered. He cupped Steve’s head in his metal hand. Steve was shaking enough that Bucky did not notice him flinch at the cold against his skin, mind flashing to an image of faceless techs working on it, sending jolts of painful electricity through Bucky as he was helpless in the chair. Bucky put his other hand at Steve’s neck and it was so warm, and it felt so right. “What’s wrong?”

_Everything. I don’t kn—_

“Nothing. I don’t—“ he cut himself off.

“‘You don’t, you don’t.’ You keep saying that. You don’t what, Steve?”

He leaned into Bucky, smelling his aftershave, the scent of his skin, his toothpaste. Their foreheads touched. He finally had Bucky where he always wanted him, and nothing was right. The cruelty of it was heavy on his skin, and the weight of it was sharp on his bones.

“I’m just real tired, Buck.” Steve said at last. The confession of it hurt; he had no right. “I feel like I’m falling apart.”

“Do you want to go to bed early, maybe? Catch up on some sleep?” Bucky was deliberately trying to keep his voice light, and Steve wished he did not have to. 

“I want to dance with you.” The words left Steve’s mouth unbidden. He could not even pinpoint where they had come from in his mind.

“Doesn’t seem like you’re up for foxtrottin’.”

“Come ‘ere.” Steve pulled Bucky closer, pressed his face into the crook of Bucky’s neck. It was so much easier here in the dark pressed against Bucky’s skin. He could almost forget everything here in Bucky’s arms. He held Bucky tight, and after a moment they started to sway together to music unheard. They moved so slowly, and Steve felt his body melting into Bucky’s, muscles both languid and tense and it hurt and he was so tired.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Bucky asked into the silence, voice barely above a whisper.

“What do you need?” Steve asked, just as softly, murmuring into Bucky’s neck. _Anything, Buck._ Steve never could say no to Bucky.

“I don’t need anything. I just wanna talk.”

“Okay.” His eyes were still closed, they still swayed.

“I just— let me say some things I’ve noticed.” Steve nodded against his skin. “You’re tired sometimes, a lot of the times, more than you should be. You don’t sleep well, you have bad dreams. You’re irritable, tense, but you won’t act irritated because that’s just how you are. Things haven’t been working out for you so you pull back, pull away where you used to fight. You seem always ready for an attack. You were jumping outta buildings and letting me stab you. You don’t draw anymore.”

Steve blinked. He could not remember the last time he even picked up a pencil and doodled. “What are you gettin’ at?” he asked.

“I think you need to go to therapy,” Bucky whispered. Steve froze, for just a brief moment, before pulling tighter into Bucky, starting to sway once more. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I know I’m not an expert, but I’ve been talking with the docs, the headshrinks. I’m learning a bit just from talking, learning the lingo. And then something Doctor Foster said when she first showed up. It all clicked.”

“What did she say?”

“‘Three superheroes with PTSD.’ I knew I had it. I think sometimes the therapist took one look at me and knew it before I even opened my mouth.”

Bucky, I don’t have—“

“Yeah, asshole, you do. Thor too, but it looks different on him. It worries me just as much though. We all got it. We’re all fucked up.” _We’re all fucked up. Let’s be fucked up together._

“Okay.” Steve murmured.

“Okay?”

“I’m tired, Buck. I just— I just want—“ he sighed, bringing his hand up and running it through Bucky’s hair, holding his head close; feeling the warm skin at the back of his neck. If he kept his eyes shut they would not sting so badly. If he just kept swaying his knees would not feel so shaky. If he forced himself to breathe, the words would not sound wet and harsh in his throat.

“I wanna pretend there’s nothing wrong,” he finally said.

He thought he could make the words steady, but they came out of his mouth like a sob. Bucky squeezed him tighter, and Steve just let him. _Someone stronger,_ he thought to himself, _they would be able to fight this, to pull away, let Bucky heal without weighing him down._ He breathed in Bucky’s skin. _But you’re not strong. You’re nothing. It’s your fault. Just waste of—_

“Just let me pretend there’s nothing wrong.”

“Things don’t have to be ‘nothing wrong’ you know?” Bucky said. The metal hand ran small circles on Steve’s back. “It’s okay. You can have problems. You can let go.”

“No, it’s not—“ he wanted to argue. _Let go_. Since when had he ever been able to let go? He crashed the plane into the Arctic and still they brought him back. He stopped fighting Bucky on the helicarrier and still they stitched him up. He let Bucky stab him in his bedroom, and still he breathed. He wanted to argue but he did not have the energy. He did not have the fight in him.

“Not yet,” he finished numbly. “Not now. Let’s just pretend, please?” He bit his lip, and the pain was almost grounding. “Please don’t make me—“

He thought maybe with anyone else he would not resort to begging. But Bucky was not anyone else, was he?

“God, Steve.” Steve’s face grew tense in the crook of Bucky’s neck at the sound of Bucky’s voice breaking, tears wetting Bucky’s shirt even more. “Oh Steve, it’s okay. Not yet. I get it. Not yet.” Steve sobbed softly, a hum of release in his core making him feel weak, he clung even tighter to Bucky. “We don’t have to talk about it,” Bucky continued. “We don’t have to talk about anything. You’re tired. Let’s go to bed. There’s nothing wrong. Steve, look at me,” he pulled back and moved Steve’s head to meet his eye. “There’s nothing wrong tonight. I promise.”

Steve sniffled, looking way. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Fuck—”

“Don’t— don’t say sorry. You’re okay, baby.” Bucky started wiping tears away from Steve’s face as Steve resolutely looked up at the ceiling, the wall; anywhere but Bucky. _Baby_ , Bucky called his sister that when she got hurt as a child. Steve heard Bucky say that once on the battlefield as a soldier died in his lap. _Don’t worry baby, it’s almost over. Shhh._ He only did it when things were dire. “God, Stevie. It’s okay.” _It’s almost over._

He took Steve’s hand once more, walking him to the bedroom. He patiently put Steve into a pair of sweatpants, and helped him wash his face in the bathroom, and wrapped him up in the covers, and curled around him, protecting him like a shield.

Part of Steve wanted to start crying again, but he tamped down the urge. A small voice whispered that that would be the only way to let out all the lead that had gathered in his core, weighing him down. It felt like he was being pulled harder by gravity than everyone else, like his muscles were straining even as he lay here on his side with the man he loved. Bucky held him, only letting go to tap out a brief text message to Thor before coming back in. Steve wanted not to flinch at the glint of metal in the low light, and he wanted to be able to press his lips to Bucky’s, give him what he deserved from Steve. He deserved sex, love, comfort from someone whole. But if Steve tried to give that to Bucky now he knew he would start shaking, he would shake so hard his limbs, his digits, his very skin might fall off, and what could Bucky do with him then?

“There’s nothing wrong, Stevie baby,” Bucky murmured. “You’re perfect. You always are.”

Steve bit back a final sob, before forcing himself deeper into the bed and slowly, painfully falling into a fitful sleep while Bucky whispered sweet, untrue nothings in Steve’s ear.

* * *

“I am a fool, Jane.” The words were soft in the living room floating into the bedroom through the cracked door, but it was enough to shake Steve from his restless slumber. “They need me no longer.”

“If you think that then you really are a fool.” Jane replied.

Steve slowly untangled himself from Bucky’s sleep-heavy arms, and stepped softly to the door. He did not want to eavesdrop, and would later chastise himself for doing so, but right now he was too tired and did not think to interrupt their conversation, close the door to give them their privacy, he leaned against the doorframe heavily and closed his eyes to listen.

“They are soulmates. Just as you and I cannot be swayed, neither can they, nor would I want to. I was stupid to think I could be a part of their world, of Steve’s world.”

Steve felt his heart clench in his chest. There was no clear voice shouting _No! that’s not true_. It was more of a pull in his stomach; _that is not true,_ it whispered instead, _I know nothing, but that can’t be true. If you think that I’ve done something wrong. I’m sor—_

“And yet here you are,” Jane said. “A part of their world, and still very much needed. And loved, Thor. I can see it even if you can’t.”

Steve heard Thor sigh. “Like a pet, perhaps. What did you call them, a ‘service dog?’ That is all I am. I kept Bucky calm.”

“Thor you’re more than that to them. Stop talking like that.”

“Am I, Jane?”

She sighed right back at him. “Well, now you’re just being stubborn. You’re not going to believe me no matter what I say. But, _I know_ they love you. If you can’t trust that they love you, you can trust me. I’m very smart; I have an expensive piece of paper that proves it. Do you think I’d stand by while you had your heart broken? More importantly, do you think I’d let them live if they broke your heart?”

Thor hummed, a low chuckle deep in his chest. “You might have a hard time fighting them, my love. Even with the fire of defending my heart under your heels.”

“I can take ‘em.”

Steve smiled at the door. He loved Jane already. She was half of Thor, how could he not? He thought perhaps she was better than all three of them. She could keep everyone safe; keep them whole. The two of them fell quiet for a moment.

“Thor,” she said at last. “You are capable of loving outside of you and me. Why can’t Steve and Sargent Barnes do the same? You’re confused Thor. You’re grieving. But they’re confused too. You can all heal together. I think that’s why things have worked out the way they have, why you ended up back here when I left for my research. You’re meant to be here. You’re meant to be with them. They might be soulmates, but you’re all in love. Do you hear me Thor? They love you, just as much as you love them. It took you all a weird circular way to get there, but anyone who can’t see it is blinder than a dead man.”

Thor did not respond. But, hearing the words through the door, Steve as so glad Jane was able to say what he could not. Guilt churned in his stomach, but Jane at least could translate the things Steve could not even think through. 

“Alright?” she asked. Steve imagined Thor nodding at Jane, her small hands in his. “Okay, I’m going to go to the guest apartments. You stay here, sleep with your boys.”

Thor sighed. “I love you.”

“And I love you.”

Steve heard the whoosh of the elevator after a moment, and the apartment fell quiet, he opened the bedroom door and stepped through to see Thor leaning against the back of the couch, shoulders slumped. Still larger than life, but he looked small now; not in size but in spirit.

“You heard that, did you not?” Thor asked softly, staring at the ground. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“I’m not sleeping that great anyway,” Steve replied.

“I know. I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Thor turned around and stepped Steve, squinting in the low light as he grew closer. “Were you crying?” he asked, cupping Steve’s head in his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Thor. I’m just tired.”

He looked at Thor, reaching up to hold his wrist in his hand; skin warm on his palm. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Thor’s, desperately trying to send all the love and faith he could through the kiss, through his skin; everything that was so easy for Jane to articulate with just a few words.

“Come to bed,” Steve whispered when they finished. “We—“ _we want you, we need you, we love you, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry._ “Please just come to bed.”

Thor nodded. They walked slowly back to the bedroom. Thor pulled off his dress coat, and toed off his shoes, and crawled down onto the bed, moving Steve gently to lay down between him and Bucky. Steve pulled the covers over them. He pulled Bucky’s arm over his waist, he pulled Thor’s hand into his chest. He held onto them so tightly, not noticing when he finally passed the threshold between being awake and being asleep once more.

 


	58. Chapter 58

“By the Norns, themselves. No wonder you like Midgard so much,” a low voice said, waking Steve.

Steve looked up to see Thor already sitting up in the bed next to Bucky and Steve and staring at Loki. Loki the ghost. Loki who was sitting in the chair near the dresser, legs crossed, toe tapping away in the air to an invisible beat. Steve jerked up, ready to fight, before Thor put an arm out to stop him. Bucky rolled over, still fighting off the vestiges of sleep, and Thor leaned over and placed a hand on his shoulder gently shaking to rouse him before turning to Loki. Steve was not imagining the hurt, steely look in Thor’s eyes as he stared at the bedsheets, at Bucky at Steve; anywhere but towards his brother..

“You died,” Thor said at last finally turning back to Loki. Steve’s heart clenched at the words.

“Oh, as if that ever keeps me down,” Loki replied, voice impossibly dark and airy all at once. “You ought to know better. Besides, looks like you’ve managed to quell your grief. Or is this part of it? Blindly seeking comfort where you can while you mourn your lost brother? Rather low even for you. A bit too base for a prince of Asgard, don’t you think? Defiling the American virgin with a spare man on the side? Looks exhausting, if nothing else.” He glanced at Steve first, then Bucky. “But I can see the merits. You always had good taste.”

“You speak too crudely, brother.” Thor said.

“Not your brother.”

Thor scoffed. He was angry, Steve could practically feel it coming off of Thor’s skin in waves. Steve wanted to scream right along with Thor but held his tongue, glaring at Loki across the room.

“Thor? What—“ Bucky blinked up blearily at the proceedings. He froze at the sight of Loki and slowly sat up, pushing the covers down from his body.

“Oh, that’s why he’s here,” Loki hummed, now that Bucky’s metal arm was revealed. “You did always have an inappropriate relationship with weapons, Thor. And how magnificently deadly this one is. One of Stark’s toys I presume?” His brow creased as he studied the arm from across the room.

“Loki don’t—“

In an instant he went from sitting in the chair to standing at the other end of the bed reaching out to touch the arm. Bucky flinched with a loud curse, scrambling back into Steve as one long pale finger ran down Bucky’s metal bicep. There was the smallest flash of light, and Loki jerked his hand back turning to Thor,

“Hel’s teeth, Thor!” He hissed. “What have you found?”

“Enough!” Thor said. “We will speak elsewhere.”

“Do you know what demons you sleep with?”

Thor untangled himself from the jumble of limbs and strode towards the door, pulling Loki by the arm behind him. Steve saw Loki turning back to look at Bucky and Steve one last time. Steve expected him to be leering, all teeth, and feral in a way that was so different from his brother, but that was not the case. Loki spared one last look at Bucky, brow furrowed, eyes calculating. He turned away and was gone.

“Who the hell was that?” Bucky asked. Steve looked and saw Bucky looking inexplicably pale, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead as he stared at the door where Thor and Loki had just left.

“Buck?”

“Who was that, Steve?”

“Loki, Thor’s adopted brother. What happened?”

“He touched me. It. He touched it.”

“Bucky? What—“

Bucky did not reply, he stared at his metal hand, opening and closing his fist in front of him. The metal gears whirred quietly into the bedroom. Save for that, Bucky was motionless. He was focused only on the arm, as if he was seeing it for the first time. His eyes grew wider, flicking frantically up and down the arm. He was panting, gasping for air.

Then Bucky screamed.

Steve flinched back at the sound as Bucky shot off the bed, before following after him, as Bucky fell to the floor and scrambled away, hitting the corner of the room by the large window. All the while screaming, all the while holding the metal arm out in front of him eyes wide. His feet were sliding on the carpet as he pushed himself into the wall and window.

“Thor!” Steve called out. “We need some help in here!” Steve knelt down in front of Bucky, trying to hold him still as he kept screaming. “It’s okay, it’s okay, whatever it is, its okay—“

He heard Thor and Loki come back in behind him, arguing loudly but he could not hear the words as he stared at Bucky, helpless. He had only heard Bucky scream like this once before; the security footage he saw at the bank months ago.

Bucky started clawing at his shoulder through his t-shirt, fingers digging into the flesh where his body met his shoulder. “Get it off, god, get it off! _No, no, no_ —“ Steve grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away trying to hold him still, pin his flesh arm down. Even with his extra strength it was almost impossible, fighting against Bucky’s animal fright as he tore at his shirt, at his flesh, small tracks of blood starting to ooze through the cloth. “Get it off! Stevie! Help me! Thor! God help me! Help me!”

“Bucky stop! It’s alright. You’re hurting yourself—“

“Stand back,” said a voice behind him. A strong hand pulled him from Bucky and flung him back. Steve fumbled up and watched in horror as Loki knelt over Bucky, lifted his arm above his head, gathering a yellow ball of light around his hand and then slamming it down into Bucky’s chest. 

“Damn,” Loki said after a few deep breaths, standing up. “I did not mean for that to happen.” He peered to Thor with a grin. “Whoops.”

Bucky had stopped screaming, Bucky lay prone against the window on the floor, motionless, lifeless.

_Dead,_ a voice in his mind told him. _Again._

“NO!” Steve cried out, rushing back down to the floor. His knees crashed painfully beneath him, but he could barely feel it as he came to Bucky’s side. He shoved Loki away blindly as he passed and heard him fall to the ground somewhere behind him. “Bucky! _Buckybuckybucky_ , no no no no,”

“Steven, he sleeps only,” Thor was behind him, holding his shoulders. “It is alright.”

“No! No, Thor! What—”

“He sleeps, Steve. He sleeps.”

Steve touched Bucky’s face, felt for his pulse at his neck, found the life pumping through him and finally stopped struggling against Thor. He ran his hand through Bucky’s hair, and felt shallow breaths hit the skin of his wrist. 

“My goodness, Captain. I had no idea you were this… _codependent._ ” Steve felt his whole body tense, but it was as if it was not his own body anymore. He faced Loki, who was smugly leaning against the dresser. He stayed between Loki and Bucky with Thor kneeling next to him.

“Loki,” Thor’s low voice sounded; a warning.

“What did you do to him?” Steve asked.

“I touched his arm,” Loki replied, cocking his head. “And what an arm it is.”

“Loki, I swear to god if you—“

“You’ll what? Send your beast, your Hulk after me once more? I’ve seen that show. No encore required.”

“Steven,” Thor said as Steve stood, fists clenched.

“No, I will kill you myself.” The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he could stop them. They were entirely true though. Not just for what had just happened Bucky, Steve realized, but for all the pain he caused Thor. His heart thudded in his chest as he stared Loki.

Loki raised an eyebrow, looking Steve up and down. “Now that I do believe. Save your anger, Captain. You have much greater chores on the horizon.”

“Hands up, Frost-bite!” a voice said from the doorway. In the doorway stood Tony in his Iron Man suit, repulsers raised. Something flew across the window, and Steve looked out to see both Sam with his wings and Rhodes in the War Machine suit hovering outside, guns drawn.

The logical part of his brain told him he was grateful they were there, but he was not feeling very logical right now. He would probably hurt them if they stopped him from killing Loki, and that was not something Steve wanted to do. Loki smirked, putting his hands up and wiggling his fingers playfully by his head.

“And here I was coming to help,” Loki hummed. “You’d think I’d receive a warmer welcome.”

“Yeah, we got your room all set up,” Tony replied.

“A cell I presume. Shall I stay there for a few hours before disappearing into the night, or can we just take care of business like adults?”

“What business could you possibly have with us?” Steve asked.

“Gather your team, go to your _conference room_.” His lip sneered around the words. “I will tell you about the orbs you’ve found in an hour’s time.”

Then he vanished. Steve’s breath caught in his throat, anger still radiating off of him. He wasn’t finished. He was going to—

“Damn it.” Tony said.

“Yeah, no shit,” Steve replied. He turned back to Bucky kneeling down next to his body and Thor joined him on the floor. Bucky was still asleep, but he was whimpering, shaking his head.

“He dreams,” Thor murmured. “We should not wake him. Let Loki’s healing take hold.”

“Loki didn’t heal him, Loki did this in the first place.”

“He did not mean to hurt him.”“I don’t fucking care, Thor,” Steve snapped.

“Woah, Stevie calm down.”

“Damn it, Stark, don’t—”

“Okay, the reaction you’re having right now? Not appropriate. You need to calm down”

“You didn’t see it! You weren’t there. Bucky was—“ _Bucky was dead._

Rhodes and Sam landed on Steve’s balcony and Jarvis opened the door for them. Steve spared them a brief glance before looking back at Bucky, holding him steady as he shook and moaned in his induced sleep. He was gasping for breath and whispering something Steve couldn’t quite make out. Steve leaned forward to hear, and almost wished he hadn’t. _“No, please. Help…”_

He pulled back and looking towards the ceiling, trying to steady his breathing.

“What happened?” Sam finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Steve whispered. “God, I don’t know what happened.”

“Just lay it all out, Steve.”

“Loki came into the room, woke us all up, touched Bucky’s arm, Bucky got— scared?” He met Thor’s eyes, but saw Thor had no idea either. _Scared_ was not the right word. “He was just panicking, screaming. Then Loki hit him with a giant ball of light and knocked him out. I thought he—” Steve could not finish the thought out loud. _I thought he killed Bucky._

“Why was he here in the first place?”

“He came to speak to me,” Thor said. “He is a harbinger, nothing more.”

“You sure about that?” Tony asked. “He’s tended to be a bit more involved in end of the world type stuff in the past.”

“We can’t trust him,” Rhodes added. “At all. Not after the Chitauri.”

“I believe he comes only with news,” Thor replied, voice low.

“Fine. We hear tall, dark and crazy out.”

“Perhaps Barton would be better off not attending.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Sam said. “Rhodey should stay out too. The less of us he meets in person the better.”

“Jarvis can patch me in without Loki knowing right? I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Yeah, easy-peasy.”

“Jarvis,” Thor said. “Tell Jane that Loki has appeared. She should know.”

“I will inform her.”

They grew quiet, save for the sounds of distress falling from Bucky’s lips, softer now as he was pulled deeper into the magic sleep. Steve watched as his face slowly relaxed and his body grew less rigid. He heard Thor sigh above him, and he put a warm hand on Steve’s neck and Steve forced himself to breathe, to calm down. Steve wondered if perhaps Thor had not actually trusted Loki to fix what he had done to Bucky either, but had kept it to himself. Steve should have been angry about that, but also could not blame him. Loki was slippery, and love was blind.

“Okay,” Tony said at last, raising the visor on his suit. “Real question time; were all three of you sleeping in this bedroom when Loki showed up? And if so, _what have you guys been up to?_ ”

“Jesus Christ, Tony.” Rhodes said, walking from the room and taking Tony by the arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, these guys just can't catch a break, can they?


	59. Chapter 59

They put Bucky on the bed to sleep off whatever Loki had done to him. Doctors came and left and said he was doing just that, sleeping. The others gathered around in Steve’s apartment living room, sitting on the couches and chairs or standing nearby. Pepper and her assistant already had trays of coffee for everyone, distributing them around the room just Clint and Jane trailed in, the last ones to arrive. Clint sat between Bruce and Natasha and Jane looped her arm around Thor’s, her small hand pale against his gold skin.

Steve was standing in the doorway, half in the living room, half in the bedroom so he could keep an eye on Bucky. He would have stayed wrapped around Bucky like a boa constrictor and let the others talk in his bedroom, but Thor and Sam persuaded him not to. Pepper handed Steve a cup of coffee — _“A vanilla latte,”_ she whispered. _“We’ll find your favorite yet.”_ He smiled at her but was certain it did not reach his eyes — and she patted him gently on the shoulder. He surprised them both by almost leaning into the touch. He shrugged it of, saying he was tired, and she murmured that she should have gotten him a larger drink.

“Right, we now have about forty-seven minutes to meet Loki in the conference room,” said Rhodes checking his watch. “So, pre-game huddle.”

“Any idea what Loki wants?” Natasha asked.

“He comes with news only, I believe,” said Thor.

“No offense, but you have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to him,” Tony replied. “He attacked Barnes. Not exactly coming off as non-hostile right now.”

“That was a mistake. He is not—”

“Does Fury know what’s up?” Sam asked.

“I’m keeping him and Hill updated,” Bruce replied.

“Rhodie, any of your army buddies know Loki’s planet-side?”

“Should we evacuate the building? Get out all non-essentials?”

“Get out all non-Avengers, no question.”

“No, that seems overkill.”

“Does it?”

“Maybe let city officials know?”

“He doesn’t have an army this time.”

“He’s still dangerous.”

“He means no harm.”

“Thor what did he say to you?”

“He spoke of—“

“Is Barnes gonna be okay?”

“Loki did a real number on him.”

“God, I want to kill him.”

“Yeah, get in line,” said Jane and Clint together.

“Please, do not speak thus.”

“Thor we know he’s your—“

“He mentioned something about orbs?”

“Should we bring the doctors?”

“They’ve come and gone, he’ll wake up eventually they say.”

“What exactly happened? What the hell could he even be interested in telling us?”“And why should we trust whatever he says? He is literally called ‘lie-smith’ in the old myths.”

Steve watched as the others talked quickly, quietly. He knew he should be joining in, possibly even leading the conversation but he could not bring himself to do so. He leaned against the doorframe heavily only half listening, not noticing that Sam had wandered over to him until he was in front of him, leaning on the other side of the doorjamb, hands in his pockets. He peaked into the bedroom where Bucky slept fitfully.

“How you holdin’ up?” Sam asked softly while the others kept talking.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered truthfully.

“And Thor?”

They both peered over at Thor for a moment. He looked pale, agitated as he tried to talk with the others, flinching when the spoke of Loki poorly, flinching when they said something undeniably true; those two often happened within the same sentence. Steve was so grateful Jane was there.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered once more. “How’re you?” He asked.

“Worried about Clint.” Steve glanced over. He had not really gotten a good look at Clint, things just moved so quickly that morning. He was not sure what he expected, but looking at him now, it was not the calm facade and languid ease Clint was exuding. Legs apart on the couch, face relaxed. He looked fine. Steve blinked and glanced back at Sam who nodded. “He’s fucking terrified,” Sam whispered. “Natasha too.”

Natasha was seated comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath her, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she analytically discussed what had happened with the others. She looked fine too. She caught Steve and Sam looking at her and gave them a small, curt nod before turning back to the rest of the team.

“They’re spies; you’d never know. That’s the whole point.” Sam added.

“But you know.”

“Because I’m dating them. I like ‘em both a lot. They let me know they’re not doing so hot.”

“So things are getting a little better with you guys? With Clint and, _you know._ ”

“Yeah, a bit. But we don’t gotta talk about that now.” He glanced at Bucky. “You’ve got other things on your mind.”

“Well sure but—“ Steve breathed, trying to find the right words. “I’m happy for you,” he said at last. “I really am.”

They exchanged a small smile. The others were still aruging, and Steve tried to listen but a soft sound from the bedroom pulled him away. Before he knew it he was sitting on the bed as Bucky started waking up, opening his eyes, eyelids heavy and bleary.

“Hi,” Steve breathed.

“Hey.”

Steve felt all the air rush out of him when Bucky’s blue eyes met his. A movement at the side of his eye and he saw Thor in the doorway, a look of relief on his face as Bucky gave a small wave from the bed. He stepped in, closing the door behind him and sat on the bed on Bucky’s other side. They were quiet as the others’ voices were filtered through the closed door; a low humming murmur that Steve did not even bother trying to listen to. It took everything in his power not to wrap around Bucky like a vine, touch every inch of skin to make sure he was still there, still breathing. Bucky put his hand on Steve’s arm, and it felt like a tether back to real world.

“How are you feeling?” Thor asked.

“Woozy. And cold.” Steve immediately scrambled for the blanket and wrapped Bucky in it. Bucky limply reached for Steve’s hand and held it gently in his own, muttering about Steve needing to stop fussing. “He, Loki… he did something, something in my head. Made me see—“ he looked away, biting his lip.

“See what?” Thor asked.

“Unless, you don’t want to tell us—“ Steve said slowly seeing Bucky’s face tense.

“No, I need to say it. If I don’t—“ he sighed, head dropping back on the bed and squeezing his eyes shut. “He was looking around in my head, trying to find my weak points. But he ended up showing me— making me see—“

Thor ran a hand through Bucky’s hair, over his forehead.

“It wasn’t my arm anymore. It was theirs again.” Bucky said softly. Steve blinked. It made sense. Steve could still hear Bucky screaming, panicked in his mind; “ _Get it off, god, get it off! No, no, no—“_ and the thought of it made his stomach churn. “It was a weapon again. It was killing you, you both.”

“Loki did not mean to affect you thus. He said it was a mistake.”

“I don’t blame you, Thor. He caught us all by surprise.”

Thor blinked. “Thank you,” he said at last. 

Steve saw Thor relax just a little bit, as if something holding his spine straighter was finally pulled away. He helped Bucky sit up. Bucky looked down at his arm, flexing the hand and fingers in front of him, metal shining in the morning light. Steve very tentatively rested his own hand on Bucky’s, the chill seeping into his palm. Thor rested his hand on the arm as well. It felt childish, but with all of them staring at it together, touching it, perhaps they could make it Bucky’s arm once more.

Bucky shivered and curled up on himself, leaning into Thor’s chest. He let out a low groan and a hissed curse.

“Buck?”

“I can’t stop seeing it. You both—“ He cursed once more. “It feels like screaming, I don’t know how to say it.” He pressed tighter into Thor, held Steve’s hand, pulling it into his chest. “I just—“ he sighed, blinking. His face grew a little less tense and he met Steve’s eyes. “Stevie, do you remember Marty Jameson? Was he real?”

Steve bit his lip nodding, heart thudding dully in his chest. “Yeah, Buck. Marty was real fucked up from the great war, do you remember?”

“His wife. She—“

“Yeah, Buck. Mags. I know.”

Bucky nodded at him before squeezing his eyes shut and taking a steadying breath. Thor ran warm hands down his arms, and Bucky leaned into him. Steve slid over and curled closer to both of them, feeling Bucky and Thor together. They all slowly relaxed, breathing in tandem.

A knock at the door shook them, and they turned to see Sam poke his head in; “Sorry, but it’s getting close to time for you all to go up to the conference room.”

Thor moved to go out of the room, murmuring something about making sure Jane knew about the panic rooms with Tony, just in case. Bucky pulled him down and kissed him, looking unsteadily up at him as they pulled apart. Thor held his head in his hands before nodding and leaving the room. Steve watched the whole thing unfold before him feeling almost like an outsider. How Thor could think they did not love him was a mystery. Or maybe he just thought perhaps Steve was the one who did not love him. He was going to reach out to Thor but it was too late, and he was out of the room. Steve ran a hand over his face and slid off the bed. Bucky followed him.

“You can stay here. No one’s expecting you to deal with this, Buck.”

“He came here for a reason, I want to know what it is. And Thor needs us.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

 


	60. Chapter 60

They were all gathered in the conference room, quiet, waiting for Loki to appear. Bucky sat between Thor and Steve, and Jane sat on Thor’s other side. Natasha, Bruce and Tony were on the other side of the glass conference table. Tony had gone down to the lab and grabbed the boxes with the orbs which now sat closed ominously in the middle of all of them; if Bucky, Thor and Natasha were curious about what was inside they did not let on. Jane had insisted on staying despite Thor, Bucky and Steve all trying to convince her to leave; to stay with Rhodes if she wanted to hear, but most of all away from Loki. With a small glance at each other Steve knew he and Thor felt the same way about Bucky being here as well, but the resolute look in Bucky’s eye when they tried to approach him was enough to silence them.

Another exchanged look, this time between Bucky and Steve left Steve worried for Thor as well. For all intents and purposes, he had to be here, in multiple capacities; as an Avenger, as a representative of Asgard, and as Loki’s brother. But it was clearly weighing on him heavily. Steve did not want him there. Steve wanted him safe. Steve wanted him to rest. A brief flash of clarity hit him as he realized perhaps this is why the team had grounded him from missions. They wanted Steve to rest too. _But Thor actually deserves it,_ a cruel voice whispered in his mind. Steve blinked the thought away and shook his head.

They waited a few more moments. Then there was a soft breeze, and sitting at the end of the table was Loki, as if he had been sitting there the whole time.

“You’re late,” Tony said airily.

“Forgive me. Such things happen when poisoned. I’ll admit I’m not at my best.” Now that Steve really looked at Loki he saw that he was looking sallow and colorless, face more gaunt than Steve remembered. 

“Poison, Loki what—“ Thor began, anxious and worried. He looked so tired; Steve wanted to scream.

Loki cut him off; “Did you like my gift?” he asked, looking between Steve and Tony.

Steve sighed. The note from _L,_ the blue orb, the warehouse mission with Tony where everything was just a little bit too easy. Who else could it be? Steve felt foolish not to have thought of it before. But, in all fairness, Loki had been dead before.

“Cookie Monster Orb. That was you?” Steve glared as Loki flashed him a toothy grin.

Bucky squinted looking around the table, “Sorry, did I hit my head? Those words together don’t make sense.”

“I just needed someone to hold onto it. Damned if I would, those things can kill.”

“Gee, thanks.” Steve replied.

“I’m sorry, what orb?” Natasha asked. “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time?” Her pointed look at Steve left him squirming in his seat, but he still met her eye.

“Not all of us. Just me and Stevie,” Tony said. Steve bit back a _don’t call me ‘Stevie’_ but only because Loki was listening, and Steve could not imagine hearing ‘Stevie’ fall from his lips. “We told Bruce and Dr. Foster just yesterday in fact. We were going to bring it up with everyone today, but douchebag here beat us to the punch.”

“How many of them do you have?”

“We have three.”

“Four,” said Thor softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bundle of cloth; the same one he had put in his dresser weeks ago after the mission to rescue Maria Hill. He set it on the table, pulling off the fabric to reveal another orb, yellow this time.

“Oop! Big Bird!” Bruce said to Tony. They bumped fists, grinning. Tony met Steve’s eye and Steve realized they were being intentionally flippant. It almost helped.

“What?” Thor asked.

“We’ve been naming the orbs after muppets,” said Tony as if that explained everything. Natasha nodded, but Loki and Thor stared at him as if he had grown another head. “I don’t have time to explain the intricacies of Earth’s entertainment to you. Maybe you later Thor ‘cause I like you, but not you, jackass,” he added to Loki who rolled his eyes at the insult. “Right, give me Big Bird.”

Thor slid the orb towards Tony, who held up his hand. Out from one of the drawers of the cabinet against the wall a spare Iron Man glove flew out and attached itself to his arm. Steve wondered if the spare suit parts were always there or if Tony had planned this.

He opened the other three boxes and one by one planted the orbs in the air, letting them go to float one they settled into their respective places. The conference room grew quiet as they all regarded the orbs for a moment. Steve had not noticed before, but looking now he saw that they were really rather beautiful. There was something fragile about them, as if they had a heartbeat that was not quite as strong as it should have been.

“Do we know what they are?” asked Natasha after a moment.

“They’re seeds,” Steve answered without thinking.

“Steve?” 

“I had a dream, a visit from Heimdal the other night. He told me they were seeds.” Thor leaned past Bucky to stare at him, and Steve met his eyes but could do nothing more than shrug. It was not like he had that much time to pull Thor aside and tell him that he had a dream about Heimdal in the last twenty-four hours.

“Of course,” said Loki, sparing a curious, dark look at Steve before turning away. “You know what these are Thor. We heard about them as children.”

“Seeds of Yggdrasil. I thought they were just a myth. It must have happened after the convergence,” Thor said, glancing at Jane.

“That could explain why the readings they gave off were so weird,” Jane said. “Picking up stuff from other realms.”

“The great ash tree was shaken. These must have fallen. But why were they all here? Surely they would have planted themselves throughout the nine realms. Or perhaps even different periods of time. The convergence might have even lessened the bonds on the temporal plane. They could have been here or anywhere for hundreds of years, dropped back in time; lost to all.”

“They might have been. The one I passed onto you was not on Midgard when I first found it. It was on—“ Loki stopped with a soft smack of his lips, looking away out the window.

“Where, Loki?”

“Just Jotenheim. I fancied a visit. They said it had been there for at least a few years.”

“You said you were poisoned,” Bruce asked stopping Thor before he could say anything about Jotenheim. “What did you mean by that?”

“The orbs are poisoned, and my power has been inexplicably tied to the orbs. A spell gone wrong, no real worry, merely an annoyance. My powers are a little erratic I suppose, especially when I get closer to the orbs. Which I hope is good enough to explain my unexpected encounter with the assassin.” He grinned at Bucky, but flinched, face faltering when met with the heavy glare of the Winter Soldier instead. Were the circumstances different, Steve might have even laughed at the shock on Loki’s face.

“That doesn’t make sense; how can the orbs be poisoned in the first place?”

“‘Corrupted by the hands that have taken them,’” Steve murmured. “Heimdal said that. And Hydra’s been collecting them, maybe even getting them from off-world. Who’s more corrupt than them?”

“Is that why it fucked you up so bad?” Bucky asked softly turning to Thor. “You were carrying that thing when we were rescuing Hill.”

“Aye. It was in the room when Lady Hill was—“ Thor sighed, shaking his head “—interrogated,” he finally said, tactfully. They all knew what had really happened; torture, mindless torture because Hill was SHIELD and they were Hydra. It made Steve’s blood boil just to think about it. It was only a small comfort that all parties responsible had been wiped off the map. Fury had seen to it, most times personally. “That was perhaps why it affected me so; the orb absorbed all the evil of their hands, and I was holding it for some time. I am Asgardian, but were a human to hold it that long it would surely destroy them.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Legends say they cannot heal unless all of them are together.”

“They look pretty together,” Tony remarked.

“No, look, there’s holes,” Bruce said. “It’s almost as if they’re meant to be floating around something in the center. But there’s gaps.”

“How many are there?”

“Seven,” Steve said. “That’s what Heimdal told me. He said get all seven and bring them to Asgard.” Loki let out a very low hiss at that, Steve thought he might have been the only one to notice, but he met Natasha’s eye and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod.

“Okay, so, we’ve got four. Fury and Hill have two. There’s one missing.”

“I know where it is,” Loki said. “I need a map to show you.”

Jarvis brought up a shimmering holographic display in front of Loki and he peered at it. He waved his hands a little, fingers glowing behind the hologram and after a moment, he placed his finger in Europe. The map magnified around it and he tapped again, growing closer and closer to his destination.

“There,” he said at last. “That is where it is.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve let out when he saw the coordinates.

“What? You know it?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Is that—“ Bucky started staring at the map.

“Yeah, Buck.”

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Natasha asked.

“An old Hydra base. Azzano.”That was a little too close for comfort. Steve closed his eyes and couldalready see Bucky lying there strapped to the table, mumbling his serial number. He shook his head.

“Is it still operational?” Natasha asked.

“No, it was destroyed,” Bucky replied. “But a lot of bad things happened there. If the orb was there during the war; when they were, if it was absorbing the bad energy— it wouldn’t be a good place for it.” He looked pale; Thor and Steve exchanged a look when they both noticed.

“Would it be safe to assume that this orb would be in worse shape than the others because of being in Azzano?”

“If what Barnes says is correct, I would imagine so,” said Thor.

They started discussing logistics about how to get the orb back to the tower, and then how to get back to Asgard. They did a little satellite reconnaissance and saw Azzano was still empty, still a ruin. All the while Steve felt eyes on him. He finally caught Loki’s gaze and glared; as if he could send all the hate and bile he felt for him through his eyes alone. He was not paying too much attention, which made it his own fault when he was jerked back to the conversation with Bruce saying;

“Jane and I both gotta keep running tests on these guys, but Steve can monitor from here.”

“Wait, no. I’m going with you guys.”

“Steve you’re still—“

“I’m not grounded anymore, I’m backup.”

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t be going to Azzano in the first place, Steve,” Bucky said.

“And _you_ should?”

“Steve,” Natasha said warningly. He glanced over at Loki who was grinning once more and stopped arguing, shutting his mouth sharply and shaking his head. He let out a huff of breath and leaned back in his chair.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll monitor from here. Just let me know when you’re all ready to go.”

He stood up and nodded to the others and started to walk from the room. He was trying to spare one more quick glance at Thor and Bucky, but saw Loki instead, a wide grin on his face; smug and amused. Steve scoffed and left. It was almost frightening out much hate and loathing he felt when he met Loki’s gaze. He did not think he could hate this sharply.

_You thought that about the arm,_ a voice said as he stalked down the hall to the elevator. _This is different,_ he told himself. _This is so much more real. This I can change._

The bones in his hands cracked into the silence elevator as the went back down to his apartment, loudly shaking him from his thoughts. He had been clenching his fists so hard now that he forced himself to relax, they throbbed, trembling a little as blood flowed through them once more. For a moment, the light shifted, and he thought his fingers were turning chrome like they had in his dreams. He flinched, jerking back and hitting the back of the elevator wall with a jolt and looked again.

There was nothing. Just his hand. He rubbed his face and tried to steady his breathing once more.

 


	61. Chapter 61

Steve watched from the landing pad as the others got onto the quinjet and took off to Europe for the orb. Loki had disappeared to god knows where, but everyone was certain he would be back sooner rather than later. The moment he was gone Natasha made sure everyone was aware that Loki might not want the orbs on Asgard, and to be prepared for his mischief when they returned.

“Bucky, you don’t have to do this,” Steve had whispered as he and Thor stood together before their departure. He crossed his arms in front of him; the cold air from the open landing pad cutting through his clothes. Thor put a warm hand on his neck, and it took all of Steve’s effort not to just melt into the touch.

“I think I gotta, Steve,” Bucky replied. “When you left Thor and I were talking. It might not be an accident it’s at Azzano. I think this one’s meant for me. The yellow one was meant for Thor. And you touched the red one. It’s my turn.”

“I barely touched it.”

“You almost died for it,” Thor mentioned. 

“That doesn’t—“

“Stevie, I gotta go do this.”

“I will keep him safe, Steven,” Thor said. “You have my word.”

“I know, Thor. I wouldn’t even let this happen if I didn’t know you were gonna be there with him.” Steve met his eyes, hoping Thor knew how desperately important he was to Steve. _I trust you, I believe you, I love you._

“It will not take long. We will be back soon. Then we go to Asgard; we finish this, together.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a soft nod; limbs still feeling heavy. He wanted to lean into Thor, he felt so tired. “Yeah, it’ll be fine.” He said more to himself than to either of them.

“It’s time,” Sam said nearby.

As Bucky and Thor reluctantly pulled back Steve felt he should do something, anything. He wanted to kiss them both, he wanted to hold them and never let go. He could feel his heart thumping madly in his chest as they grew further and further apart. All of his muscles were screaming at him to just reach out and take them back, take them for himself. Instead he pulled his arms tighter around himself as a cruel wind sent a cold shiver through him.

“Wait,” he heard himself whispering as the door to the quinjet shut. _Please wait. Please stop._ He clenched his jaw, raised his chin, alone on the landing pad as the jet started up and left. It took him a few moments to begin to breathe normally, to move his legs and walk back to the elevator.

Steve made his way back into the conference room and started to activate Jarvis to start monitoring the mission. His hands worked mechanically as he started inputting the codes.

“Steven,” said a low voice behind him, shaking him from his task. “That’s what he calls you, isn’t it?”

Steve turned and saw Loki standing in the door, leaning against the doorframe. The room grew just minutely cooler, but Steve may have been imagining it. The dark-haired man stepped forward closing the door behind him with a click. Steve swallowed and forced himself to breathe evenly.

“Loki,” Steve replied with a nod.

“You did not answer my question. I am worried now he calls you ‘Captain America’ in bed.”

“I’m busy, Loki.”

“Norns, you are on a hair’s edge you’re so tense. Is my darling brother leaving you unsatisfied?”

“I’m not going to talk about him with you. I’m not talking about anything with you.”

He hummed, suddenly next to Steve at the conference table. Steve could smell him he was so close. He smelled like dry ice. Loki grinned, all teeth, inches from Steve’s face. To his credit, Steve did not flinch. He glared at Loki before scoffing and turning back to the communications array, assuming Loki was just trying to get a rise out of him. That was a mistake.

Loki touched his arm.

“What the hell?” Steve jerked back just in time to see a little bit of light trail off of his skin from Loki’s fingers. Loki’s hands were like ice, colder than ice, colder than the metal arm. It burned it was so cold. Steve could feel the touch lingering even after his hand was gone. Loki studied him, smile turning darker.

“Dear me. You’re even worse off than your little Winter Soldier,” he laughed. “And they have no idea. My brother knows how to pick them, doesn’t he? Is he just building up a collection of damaged toys?”

“I’m not talking to you, Loki. Back off.” A tendril of cold, dread coiled in his belly as he stepped back from Loki. It was foreign; an invasive, worming poison in his veins, in his viscera. It felt like a hand gripping at his core, cold and searching and prodding, fingers tickling his intestines, his nerves, the places where his muscles met his bones. Steve’s body started shaking, knees going weak. He gasped as a wave of cold, icy nausea crept through him. He remembered what had happened to Bucky with a jolt of fear.

“What did you do to me?”

“Oh, I am sorry, I thought we weren’t talking.” Steve’s knees buckled beneath him and he crashed down onto the floor. “I am merely looking around, don’t fret. Though, you do fret don’t you? About all sorts of things. A real worrier, aren’t you?” _No, that’s not true. Bucky’s the worrier. Always has been._ “No, you’re just terrified. You know, I had not meant to probe your dark assassin’s mind; my powers are rather erratic thanks to those damned orbs. But when I saw what they would do on this plane, I had to experiment. And what fun it is, reading you like a book. Perhaps I’ll find out what my brother sees in you.”

The cold — _the dread_ — trickled up his spine, and felt like he was going to vomit or melt from the inside and out, bleed out through his very pores as it rose higher and higher, towards his throat, his head, his mind. It was not there; not at this mind yet, but Steve was certain once it reached there something horrible would happen. He would scream and never be able to stop. He scrambled away from Loki but it did no good. He could barely move his legs, his arms, his body as he pulled his way desperately to the wall behind him.

Loki sat down on one of the conference room chairs.

“What did you do to me?” Steve asked again. The words were barely a gasp, barely an exhale from his throat. The feeling of dread crept closer and closer up his body, touching the base of his skull, flitting about through his nervous system. Steve felt sicker than he ever had before; he closed his eyes. _No, no, no, stop—_

“You have more fears than one would imagine, do you not, Captain? You are just surprisingly terrified of so much. You’re very good at hiding them.” Loki murmured. Or perhaps he spoke it out loud and Steve could only just barely hear it over the pound of water, of ice, of thunder, of blood in his ears.

“So far I’ve gleaned you fear failure, worthlessness, and there is something else, but I haven’t quite picked up on it. And you also truly do not like the cold _._ That is interesting to me on a personal level. You do know what I am, yes? I am made of the cold. Thor fears it too. Or he fears what lurks in the cold. Of course you would cleave to each other.”

Steve bit the inside of his cheek to hold in a whimper; the metallic taste of blood hit his tongue. The dread was curling closer and closer to his brain. He was struggling against it, trying to fight it and failing.

“Hey Cap, you with us buddy?” Clint’s voice sounded through the comms. “We’re still waiting on that satellite uplink.”

“Perfect timing,” Loki said.

The dread was there. It was in his mind, probing his brain, finding everything. Steve crashed back, desperate to escape what was in front of him. The dread showed Steve everything he feared. It was burning into his skull, and he could still see it when he closed his eyes. There was blood, there was gore, there was snow and ice and water, there were the broken bodies of all his friends, all the soldiers he lead into battle littered at his feet. Sam, Natasha, Peggy, Bruce, Jane, the Howlies; more and more and more, Tony and Pepper, Clint and Colonel Rhodes. Maria Hill on a stretcher just where Sam had put her because Steve had not gotten there in time to save her; because he was grounded and could not save her. The bodies were everywhere. And it was Steve’s fault.

Bucky was falling from the train and Steve reached for his arm, but he pulled too hard. Bucky’s flesh arm was in Steve’s hand, wrenched from his body with a bloody, wet rip before he fell down into an infinite chasm, screaming back at Steve. Thor sat against a rock, blood running down from his mouth, eyes open and unseeing; hammer broken at his side. Now, Bucky lay next to him, neck at a terrible angle. He was utterly still, metal arm glinting in the snow.

But then the arm twitched. The metal arm twitched. Steve watched, frozen in horror as it pulled itself, disconnecting from Bucky’s dead body, and started inching towards Steve, fingers pulling it closer and closer, moving faster and faster as it gained momentum. Steve was stuck, trapped against the wall of the conference room watching the arm come towards him, as the cold snow fell on him.

Steve screamed.

From far away, he heard the others talking to him, shouting at him through their comms devices, but he could not understand them. How could they be talking to him? They were dead.

The metal arm was on him now, on his skin, ice cold and hard. And then there was another one. They were both pulling him down on the ground, holding him, restraining him. There were four, there were five; he lost count. More and more were surrounding him. All he knew was that he was screaming and desperately fighting them off and still more came. Where there were not hands there was the cold touch of dead flesh against his skin as he struggled on top of the bodies of his friends. The metal hands were so strong. The hands ran through his hair, on his neck; fingers pushed into his mouth, ripped the clothes from his body, touched his feet, his legs, his fingers, the most sensitive spots of his flesh — _please stop, please don’t do this, don’t kill them, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!_ — His skin was burning with the ice cold metal, plates pinching at his flesh. _I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry!_

“See, there it is; that’s fascinating. You’re not scared of the hand at all.” Loki’s voice was in his mind. There was no way Steve could have heard it over the sounds of his own screams.

The hands were everywhere, covering his eyes so he could not see — _I can’t see, help me, I’m sorry, God, I can’t see, I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry. I’m so sorry_ — they were pinching his nose shut, covering his mouth; pulling the flesh from his bones. The metal was so hard, so smooth, so firm against his skin, and he was dying from it right there on the conference room floor under the stare of the corpses of the people he loved.

“I’ve seen enough.”

The hands were gone. Steve was curled in a ball in the dark corner of the conference room, furthest from the window, shadowed by the table, by the file cabinet. He still could not see, could not hear, could not think. All he knew was that he was blessedly free of the hands but it was too late; all he could say was—

As if through a haze he saw everything happen before him. Loki spoke to him for a few minutes more, but his words did not make it through to Steve at all. Avengers burst through the door. Sam, Tony, Thor and Natasha cornered Loki, guns drawn, hammer ready; Bruce pulled up the security feed to lock down the building; Bucky knelt in front of Steve, taking his head in both of his hands. The metal hand was there against his skin and Steve did not even flinch — _it’s really not that cold, is it? It’s just Bucky’s hand. Bucky’s here, but that doesn’t— Bucky was dead…_ All he could say was—

Thor slammed Loki down on the glass conference table cracking it beneath him. Steve thought he heard Loki laughing. Thor was screaming at his brother, hand on his throat, before suddenly Loki was gone. Vanished into the air like the cold wisp of fog that he was. Thor screamed once more, loud and feral and raw and pained; thunder crashed outside the building.

All Steve could say was—

Both Thor and Bucky were staring at Steve, kneeling in front of him. He was aware, but not aware of them. Steve stared straight ahead, unhearing, unseeing, unfeeling. All he could say was—

“Steve I can’t hear, what are you saying?”

His lips were moving, but maybe no sound was coming out. All around him was movement and chaos and the faces of his dead friends before him; the metal arm had blood dripping and oozing between the plates. How were they walking? They were dead and it was his fault. And all he could say was—

“What is he saying?”

“I don’t know, he just keeps murmuring. Thor, I can’t hear it, can you hear it?”

“No. Steven, can you hear me?” He turned, “Fetch a healer!”

All he could say was—

“Stevie. Please. It’s okay. Christ, Stevie. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

All he could say was—

“Steven? Love, please.”

_“I’m sorry.”_

“What? Steve, what?”

_“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry—_ “

“What? Steven, it is alright, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Warm hands, warm breath against his skin, holding his head, holding him still as he tried to squeeze further back into the wall. He knew he was whimpering, crying, shaking, but it all felt so far away. 

“Don’t say that, Steven. Don’t say that love, please, please.”

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”_

“What did he do? What did he do to you, baby?” Bucky was crying, Steve saw it from far away. Thor’s eyes were red-rimmed and dark, Steve saw it from far away. _I’m sorry_ , he thought. They deserved better. He should have done better by them before they died. “God, we should’ve stayed; I should’ve stayed. What did he do to you?”

Everything was moving around him. He kept his eyes open and he saw the corpses of everyone he loved standing in front of him, uncertain, scared and it was his fault. He closed his eye and saw the corpses of everyone he loved lying in the snow and that was his fault too. Clint was there now, saying something to him, which was impossible. Clint was dead; killed by his own arrows. Steve should have been faster with the shield. A moment later a doctor was saying something to him which was impossible too. Steve did not know him, but Steve knew the doctor was dead and it was Steve who let him die. He was shining a light in Steve’s eyes, touching his neck, wrapping something around his arm.

_“I’m sorry.”_

“It’s alright, it’s gonna be alright.”

No. It really wasn’t.

Something sharp pricked him on the arm; he looked down sluggishly just in time to see the doctor pull a syringe away from his veins. The words _lethal injection_ floated around in his head. He would have panicked if he could have, but he merely sat, prone staring at his arm. A far off voice told him that even that was too merciful for him, it should hurt more, but at least they were finally doing what they should’ve done all along; punishing him, getting rid of him. It was all his fault. The world started to turn fuzzy around the edges of his vision. Bucky and Thor were there, and it did not make sense. They died. They died and still their corpses were talking to him; they ran their hands through his hair, touched his face as if they loved him. A real man would scream at that, but he had let them die in the first place so he could hardly claim the title now could he? Instead he tried to tell them; to beg them to understand, to let them know—

His voice was slurring a little in his mouth. His eyelids grew heavier; a blessing. When his eyes were closed the corpses were not alive in front of his face. Everything started growing dark. Bucky was holding one of his hands, and Thor the other; their skin, their metal, warm against his palms, as if they were still alive. His body stopped shaking quite so badly, and he could smell Bucky, smell Thor; they were so close, and they looked so scared.

And all he could say was—

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my name is Betsy and I have a really bad problem with psychologically torturing Steve Rogers. Whoops.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Okay, maybe a little 'AOU compliant')

Steve woke up on an unfamiliar bed. No, he knew where he was. The med-bay, by the labs. He blinked at the too bright lights and felt an awful lurch in his stomach. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, rolling over to his side. It felt like his stomach was filled with ice as he shivered on the bed. It hurt.

“There’s a bedpan here if you need to puke,” said a voice.

Steve opened his eyes and saw Clint and Sam sitting in front of him on plastic chairs next to the bed. He blinked. They were still there; they were alive. He blinked again, expecting them to disappear as he curled in on himself, desperately cold. His whole body hurt. He wanted Bucky and Thor but they were dead.

“That bastard really did a number on you, didn’t he, big guy? You look like shit.” Clint asked. Steve could only nod, even that felt painful. He knew if he looked one-tenth as bad as he felt it was not pretty. “You wanna sit up?” Steve nodded again and Clint pressed a button on the bed that slowly brought him up. That made him want to scream a little bit. It hurt and it was a kind of pain Steve had never felt before. He could not stop trembling, gripping the sheets under him to try and hold still.

“Oh god,” Steve groaned, fighting back another wave of nausea. He stared at Sam and Clint, still slightly uncomprehending. Where was all the blood? They had been covered in it. They had died, Steve could not save them in time. _I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._

“Sorry, we had to make Bucky and Thor leave for a little bit,” Sam said. “They were freaking out, hounding the doctors, guilt-trippin’ like crazy. They’ll be back soon.”

“But they’re—“ _dead. I couldn’t save them._

“They’re fine, Steve. Everyone here is fine. Jane even managed to get a few shots at Loki before he disappeared entirely.” Steve stared, confused; because Jane had been dead too and _god, Thor did not get a chance to say goodbye, that’s not fair. I’m sorry, I’m so–_ “Yeah, you should see the security footage. Right after he poof-ed away from the conference room he stopped by the lab. Jane pulled a gun out before he could get a word in and fired a few rounds, grazed him twice too, all the while walking backwards into one of the panic rooms, pulling Bruce and the orbs with her and talking to security through Jarvis. Did not even bat an eye. Then Loki just nope’d the fuck outta there.”

“I would’ve too,” Clint added. “She’s very scary.”

“I think it’s because she’s so tiny; like concentrated levels of scariness.”

The two men chuckled. Steve kept trying to wrap his head around everything. All the while it felt like salty ice water was churning in his abdomen; an icy hand was squeezing his spine. He groaned again, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Sam passed him a plastic cup of water, and he took it, hands trembling a little bit. It felt like a miracle on his parched throat.

He closed his eyes and saw the snow, the blood, the corpses, the metal hands everywhere. He jerked violently when a hand touched his arm, almost spilling the water.

“Hey, easy big guy,” Clint said, taking the cup away and setting it down. “Whatever you saw wasn’t real, okay? That’s just Loki fucking with you.”

“But—“

“No. It was not real.”

“It was my fault,” Steve whispered. “I couldn’t stop it— I couldn’t save you, any of you.”

“It wasn’t real, Steve.” Sam said. “Everyone’s fine.”

“It was,” Steve replied, growing frantic, each time he blinked the world was covered in cold, white snow and bood. He tried to sit up a little more, feet slipping on the sheets, his legs burned when he moved them. “He saw— he was looking for— it’s my fault, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“Shh,” Clint said. “Hey, Steve? Steve, look at me.” He took Steve’s head in his hands, forcing him to meet Clint’s eyes, to grow still. “This is Loki’s mind-fucking, Steve. It does not matter what you saw.”

“No, no, please— it was— it’s my fault.” Steve tried to look away, but Clint held firm. Steve felt so sick he could not fight back, could not pull away. 

“Steve, none of what Loki made you see happened. You gotta trust me. It was not real.”

“It’s not— it’s everything. God, help me, It’s all my fault. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I can’t— I can’t— it’s my fault— I’m sorry—“ The words hurt in his throat, and his heart was thudding madly in his chest.

“Steve, Steve; look at me, look at me.” He met Clint’s eyes and even that almost hurt to do. “Even if something was your fault, we forgive you. Okay? But we don’t have to because it was not real. I know it wasn’t real because Loki did it to me, remember? He fucked with my head too and it made everything seem so real, and it wasn’t. Believe me, it wasn’t. He made me think things that were impossible, and he did the same thing to you. So we forgive you, whatever you did. But you didn’t do anything. It was not real.”

“No but—“

“Doesn’t matter. You wanna know what he made me see? what he made me think? He made me think I didn’t love my wife. My son, my little girl. The most beautiful people in the world, the most important people in my life and he made me think they were nothing. If they walked in front of me when I was with Loki and he said to, I would have killed them. They’re my whole world, and when Loki had me they were nobody.”

“What?”

“He lies, Steve. Even if it felt real it was a lie. It was just something he knew would kill you inside, but it was not real.”

Steve pulled away from Clint once more and Clint finally let go. Steve fell back against the bed with a groan, arms curling around his abdomen; his stomach churning inside him with the ice cold poison Loki had left behind. He kept gasping for breath and slowly, slowly his heart rate went down, slowly it because easier to breathe.

He looked down at his hands, convinced they would be growing metal plates just like Bucky’s, but they were normal hands, shaking over his lap. He looked at his arm: “The doctor. The doctor, he was— he didn’t—“

He stared at his arm, where he was sure the doctor had pricked him with a needle, filling his veins with poison. He was so certain that he was about to die; about to be killed because the death, the destruction, the snow was his fault. He had accepted it. But now the only thing there was a small, Avengers themed bandaid; a pattern of little Captain America shields. He blinked at it. It was surreal.

“Steve?” Sam asked. “You alright?”

“You have a wife?” Steve asked Clint in lieu of responding. _No, I’m not alright. It hurts._

Clint nodded with a small smile, “Yeah, Steve, I do. Laura.”

“Your file? She’s not—”

“Fury helped me keep her outta the system; to keep her safe.”

He turned to Sam, “Did you know about this?”

“He just told me a few days ago. Gonna be meeting her and the kids in a couple of weeks.”

Steve blinked at them, and blinked back down at the Captain America bandaid on his arm and blinked around the room. “Does she know about Sam? And Natasha?” he asked at last.

“Yeah, yeah big guy. She’s well aware of the situation.”

“Huh.” He fell quiet. The distraction of the new information only lasted so long. His stomach, his muscles, his lungs were screaming at him; ice and salt frothing in his veins. His head dropped back on the bed behind him.

“Steve, you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he said. It felt so fucking cold, but no blanket could help him. “Bucky and Thor? Where—”

“We made ‘em go walk it off. I don’t think I’ve ever Thor that freaked out man. Bucky was pretty shaken up too.”

_No, no, God, I’m sorry._ Steve wanted to scream, but was not sure his body could do even that as he sat on the bed shaking, legs curling up to his chest. Sam handed him the cup of water again and he took a sip, but it did not help this time.

“Loki?” he asked in lieu of thinking about how he had hurt Thor and Bucky, _again._

“In the wind as far as we know. He wasn’t able to get through Tony’s magic-proof vault with the orbs. So once we regroup, get the last orb, a few of us are going to Asgard to drop ‘em off.”

“I’m going too,” Steve said. He cursed as he tried to sit up straighter, slowly bringing his legs out from his chest to swing over the side of the bed. “I think I have to go too.”

“You can barely move,” Sam said. There was a hand on Steve’s shoulder and fighting against it as it tried to press him into the bed left Steve reeling. 

“You think I don’t know that?” He squeezed his eyes shut as the world spun around him. “I have to go. Heimdal said he would see me there.”

“I don’t think Heimdal would want you killing yourself to get there though.”

“I don’t think I have much choice in the matter.”

Steve saw the bedpan Clint had mentioned earlier, thinking he might be using it sooner rather than later. His body was trembling as he sat on the edge of the bed, Sam all but holding him up next to him. He was about to open his mouth to argue when the door clattered open with a loud bang behind him. Steve peered over his shoulder and saw it was Natasha.

“Barnes and Thor stole one of the jets. They’re heading to get the orb themselves.”

Sam cursed under his breath. Steve relaxed minutely in Sam’s arms. “Guess I don’t have to go to Asgard yet,” he murmured. He leaned down and put his head between his knees, trying to stave off the dizziness from the spinning room. “Are they okay?” he asked the floor.

“Steve, they’re freaked out enough to steal a jet to go to the base at Azzano. They’re probably not okay.”

He let out a low curse. “I should—“ he tried to step off the bed and nearly fell over; saved only by Sam and Clint grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him back onto the bed.

“What you should do is lie down, dude,” Clint said, pushing him back down onto his back. 

“But they—“

“They want you to lie down. They want you to get better.”

Steve blinked at Sam and Clint. “But they’re— but they—“

“Steve, calm down. You can’t do anything right now. They’re probably already halfway across the Atlantic. Steve, just stop and rest.”

He clung to the sheets beneath him painfully hard to try and stop his hands from trembling. Another curse fell from his lips. He could barely see straight. He vaguely remembered Bucky said it felt like screaming, but he was fine by the time they got to the conference room to meet with Loki. Steve had been sleeping for at least a few hours and it still felt like acid was burning through veins, and every breath he took pumped it through his body even harder. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe evenly.

“Steve, do you want the doctor?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think it’ll help. And I don’t— I don’t want to be put back to sleep again.” He thought of the doctor again, the needle; he had been so certain they were killing him. A shudder ran through him as he glanced down at the Captain America bandaid stuck innocently to his skin.

“Okay, we’ll just wait this out then.”

Steve nodded at them, and fell back against the bed, eyes squeezing shut once again, riding out wave after wave of pain deep in his very soul.

 


	63. Chapter 63

Steve came up to the landing pad just in time to see Thor and Bucky get reamed out by Natasha. He could not make out exactly what she was saying, but they looked thoroughly chastised and would probably not be stealing jets again anytime soon. They both looked exhausted, pale with dark circles under their eyes, Bucky holding a small box in his left hand.

He was leaning heavily on both Sam and Clint and all three of them made their way over to Bucky and Thor. Steve was getting worse, everyone could tell. Whatever Loki had done to him was not wearing off. It was like being stabbed, like drowning, like melting all at once. Without thinking, he had muttered something about how at least it had been him getting hit by Loki and not one of the others, because really no one should have to go through this. Sam had given him a soft, exasperated, “ _Are you fucking kidding me, Steve?”_ Sam and Clint deposited Steve onto a large container off to the side of the landing pad where Steve sat, curling into himself a little as a fresh wave of pain and cold shot through him. The doctor had given him a painkiller but it had done absolutely nothing.

His teeth clattered as he tried to hold himself still; “Fuck magic,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

“I feel ya, man,” Clint replied, clapping him on the shoulder. Steve almost screamed at the contact.

“Steve you should not be here, you should be resting.” Thor was on him in a second, kneeling in front of him while Bucky sat down next to him in the container, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, putting a small grey box down next to him. Steve stared at it over Bucky’s lap, curled up under his arm, his hands held warm in Thor’s.

“Is that it?” he asked after steadying his breath. “The orb?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “That’s it.”

Steve stared at it, he could almost feel it thrumming in the box next to Bucky. He could not pull his eyes away. Tony came up with the other boxes; apparently Hill had dropped off their two when he was sleeping. Now that they were all so close, Steve thought he could almost hear them. But he could barely hear anything over the roar of wind through the landing pad and the roar of blood pounding in his ears.

He _felt_ the orbs. Whatever Loki had done to him, whatever connection Loki had with the orbs had been passed onto him. He knew it in his core. He could feel them feeding off of his pain; they were searching him as Loki had done. He closed his eyes and could see the snow and gore before him.

“Are you alright? Bo– both of you alright?” He asked, desperate to pull himself away from his thoughts, leaning into Bucky with a wince; even speaking was starting to hurt. 

“Oh Steven,” Thor sighed. “It matters not if—“

“Are you alright?” Even having them here now, physically connected to him, Steve could not shake off the fear from the dream Loki put in his mind. They were dead. They were gone when he woke up. And now they were back in front of him. It did not make sense. He could not put his thoughts together.

“We have been better, Steven,” Thor said at last. “And we will all be better with this business completed.”

Steve nodded and Bucky pulled him in closer as his body kept trembling, earthquakes and avalanches through his bones. Thor stood as if to leave, and Steve grabbed his hand. He was going to say something, anything to keep Thor there but all that came from his lips was a groan as a flood of fresh pain washed through him.

“Don’t leave,” he finally whispered. Thor probably could not even hear it. He bit his lip, and held Thor’s hand tighter, eyes shut, the sounds of the landing pad painfully loud in his ears.

“I go to contact Heimdal, nothing more.”

A hand on his forehead. “Christ, Stevie you’re burning up. We’ve gotta get you back to bed.”

“No, I have to— Asgard— I have to go.”

“That is out of the question, Steven.” Thor was back in front of him, blue eyes finally meeting his, and Steve thought he would drown in it. “You are too ill.”

“I need to go. The orbs— I have to go.”

“Can they help him, Thor?”

“Perhaps, but—“

“Thor!” Thor winced, put his hand on Steve’s face. “I have to go to Asgard.” Steve said slowly. “We have to fix the orbs. Help me.”

Thor looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. He glanced over at Bucky and together they pulled him up to standing. Steve did scream that time. He could vaguely hear Bucky, Clint and Sam cursing nearby, and Natasha and Tony moving the boxes with the orbs.

So much was happening around him, but all he knew was the feel of Bucky on one side of him, and Thor on the other. They were warm and solid and Steve was certain he was melting away as they propped him up between them.

“Fuck, Steve, your nose is bleeding,” Bucky whispered into his ear. “Fuck, baby.”

Steve had no response to that. He almost was about to say _“I’m fine_ ,” once again, but even through the agony and roar of noise through his skull he knew that was stupid. He saw Bucky and Thor, and they looked so terrified. He wanted to apologize, but he knew if he said the words he would not be able to stop, just like before.

The others were moving into position onto the now-clear landing pad. Thor pulled Steve tightly into his chest; Bucky held him up on the other side.

“Heimdal!” Thor bellowed. The sounds shook through Steve; and for a brief flash it felt like warmth, before the cold and ice came back.

There were lights all around them, Steve blinked against the glare. He looked around and finally met Thor’s eyes once more. Part of him thought that he was about to die. There was a certainty in him that knew if the pain lasted much longer he would just close his eyes and crumble away. He could not leave the world that way.

“Thor,” he said. It came out rough in his throat. “I do love you. You thought I— you thought I didn’t.You told Jane— I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—“ _I’m sorry, I’m sorry,_ it came up in his throat and he had to force himself to shut it down. “I love you. I’ve been so—“

“Hush. It is alright. You’re alright.”

A sob tore through his throat as light burned in his eyes. They were moving, flying and all Steve could do is cling to Thor, cling to Bucky and hope he did not lose his grip, fall away into the chasm of space.

And then they were still. Steve crashed to his knees, only barely seeing the glowing floor beneath him. Bucky held his shoulders as Steve tried to stay upright. His fingers found the lacings of Thor’s boots, and he clung to them weakly, he was too weak to do much else. _Don’t leave, don’t leave._ The ice was in his stomach, in his veins, in his lungs. It was worse than when he was in the East River, in the Potomac, in the Arctic Ocean. Every breath he took was glass shards in his chest.

The others were talking over him, feet scrambling around, sneakers, combat gear, ancient leather boots.

“Captain Rogers,” said a voice. Steve forced his head to move, to look up at the man he had met already in his dream, the man in the golden armor. Heimdal stared down at him and Steve could not read his expression.

“Welcome to Asgard,” he said. “I have been watching you. I must say, you have had a very bad year.”

Steve nodded, a hysterical bubble of laughter tearing from his lips as he fought down the urge to vomit. It was surreal; at this point he was almost giddy with the pain coursing through his body, through his nerves.

“Yeah,” he finally got out. “No shit.”

His body gave out, he crashed to the floor, he saw nothing else.

 


	64. Chapter 64

_A hand, warm, small and delicate, ran through Steve’s hair. But strong; there was strength in that hand. He opened his eyes saw a woman peering down at him a soft, sad smile on her face. She was not solid; she had no shape. He knew her. Or there was something familiar about her. He blinked._

_“Mom?”_

_It was a foolish guess, but there was something about her that left him feeling smaller, weaker, younger, but very much cared for. She shimmered in front of him. No. Not Sarah Rogers. But familiar still; maternal and strong in the same way Sarah had been. The way her hand carded through his hair was the way only a mother’s could._

_“No, but she is still with you. She asked me to come to you; of course I would not say no.”_

_“Can I see her?” God, please let me see her._

_“No, I am sorry. She is too far away.”_

_That hurt him more than he thought it would. “But she has to know. Please. About me, about everything, about Bucky. I couldn’t save Bucky, I couldn’t— his mom told me to watch out for him, and I couldn’t, and I didn’t—“ She shushed him, wiping away tears from his face. “And Loki came back, and Thor looked so— god, I should– I’m supposed to—“_

_He tried to sit up and she shushed him once more, a hand on his shoulder pressing him back down. “I will see to my dear Thor soon. You have helped him so much. I am so grateful. And you are helping James too. So much. You should hear him speak of you. You’ve given them both so much.”_

_“I’m sorry. Please, I’m so sorry. I should’ve—”_

_“There is nothing to be sorry for. You have done your best. But you’re sleeping now; you must stay sleeping. Asgard’s healers are working on your wound. You and James both, always ready to wake up.”_

_He was lying on a bed of thick grass, staring up at a nebula above him. Stars swirled in front of his eyes, the constellations unfamiliar and shifting and beautiful. He did not have to look around to know that he was alone with the woman; no one else even existed here. It was Steve, the woman seated next to him, and the pain. He still felt cold; that marrow-deep cold that Loki had infected him with. He steadied his breathing, forcing himself to stop crying. The ice within him was growing ever more painful in his core. His face scrunched up against the hurt and he turned away from the woman, ashamed. She pushed his head back towards her. He met her eyes finally; the only real thing in her formless essence._

_“Steven,” she said softly. “Tell me what is wrong.”_

_“I’m—“ He was so ready to say “I’m fine” even in this dream, even to this woman who was so familiar. He could not speak. He tried to look away once more but he could not._

_“Tell me,” she asked again. She spoke so gently and her hands were so warm on his face._

_“It hurts,” he whispered finally, a confession he did not want to put into words. “Please, it hurts. It’s so cold.”_

_She placed her hand on his stomach, whispering something Steve did not understand. It felt like it was burning through his shirt, his skin, his muscles into the poisonous block of ice that had settled in his abdomen. He let out a breath he did not know he was holding. It helped, her warm hand was slowly melting the cold, but it was not enough._

_“My second son has turned wrathful. He was not always thus. It pains me to see you hurt this way, especially at his hand. Our healers will help you, but it will not be enough.”_

_Steve closed his eyes. He was dying. He knew it._

_“Do not assume, Steven.” The woman chided as he thought it. “It will not kill you.”_

But it should _, said a voice in Steve’s mind._

_“Don’t think such thoughts.” Her voice was just a hair sharper._

_He looked at her, turning over to face her, to apologize. There was blood running down her dress. He jumped up to kneel in front of her, hands hovering. “Oh god, you’re hurt. I should’ve– are you alright? I’m sorry—“_

_“Hush, Steven. It pains me no longer.”_

_“I’m sorry.”_

_“It is not your–“ She sighed, a little exasperated. “I wonder when your heart twisted itself so?” she said at last. “When did every hurt become your responsibility? You’ve been wounded by Loki and here you sit asking me if I’m alright.”_

_“Yeah, but it looks like you’ve been stabbed, ma’am. Are you sure you’re alright?”_

_She rolled her eyes, a small laugh fell from her lips. “Both your mother and James warned me that your heart was too big. I did not believe them. Fool that I am.”_

_“I’m so–“ she held up a hand, stopping him._

_“I do not begrudge you your need to help others; that is laudable. But it is time to help yourself.”_

_“I don’t think I understand.”_

_“That much is clear,” she said with a smile and Steve felt a blush rise on his cheeks, as if she had discovered some deep secret of his. Steve thought to the others back at the tower; checking in on him, grounding him from missions, making sure he was eating enough. A small part of Steve thought that those small acts felt like the woman’s hand running through his hair; comforting, protective. She touched his shoulder gently and lay him back down on the grass._

_“You are so loved, Steven,” she continued. “You know that somewhere. But somewhere along the way you decided you did not deserve such love.”_

_He turned away from her, biting his lip. Biting back the urge to argue with her._

_“What you must do now is accept that love. That is the only way you can heal. You must speak to those who love you, tell them your troubles, your worries, and let them help carry your burdens.”_

_“They don’t— they don’t need that. They have their own burdens.”_

_“Steven,” the woman chided._

_“I can’t.”_

_“Then the ice in your heart will remain. Then the fear Loki found will never fade. You will wake each night screaming. You will always hurt.”_

_“That won’t stop just by telling them what’s wrong.”_

_“No, but it will help. You will start to heal. The wound will fade. They must know.”_

_“But what if it hurts them?” Steve asked softly. He knew it would hurt them, because it hurt him to keep it inside. He wondered if he could just sleep here forever, not go back. It would be easier._

_“A wound made with a sharp knife can heal clean. But something left to fester will only fester.”_

_“Wouldn’t it be better not to make a cut at all?”_

_“Not when you must let out poison.”_

_He fell silent. He looked up to the vast nebula above him, swirling silently; stars shining down at him fondly. He felt like he could breathe here. The cold still held tight inside of him, but it did not seem so all-encompassing now, so insurmountable. Her warm hand rested gently on his chest._

_“You said you talked with my mom?” He asked._

_She hummed._

_“Is she okay? Wherever she is?” He had vague, floating thoughts about heaven and hell and the afterlife; things Father Patrick said on Sundays and things Sister Catherine said in school when he was goofing off in the back of the classroom with Bucky. He remembered Thor mentioning ‘Valhalla’ but Steve did not ask for details then. He wondered who was right._

_The woman hummed once more. “She is so proud of you. She wants you to rest. She thinks your friends are funny and kind.”_

_“But is she okay?”_

_“She’s at peace. She was worried before, but less so now.”_

_“Worried about me?”_

_“Worried like a mother. That cannot ever be helped. I worry the same way about my children. I am glad you are taking care of one of them though; that you care for one another. I rest more easily knowing that.”_

_“Who are your children?”_

_“Have you not worked it out yet?” Steve shook his head, looking up at her gold face. “I am Frigga. Thor and Loki are my sons.”_

_Steve blinked. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said at last._

_“Such good manners.” She grinned down at him. “Rest now, Steven. And when you wake, speak with Thor, speak with Bucky. Do this and your wounds will heal. Do this before you try to heal the orbs, otherwise you will not be strong enough.” Steve started to nod, but he was already growing sleepy, his eyelids feeling heavy. “Give Thor my love.”_

_“Yes ma’am,” he thought he murmured. He was not sure. The world grew dark and his eyes closed. All he remembered was a small hand running through his hair as he finally fell asleep, stars floating above him._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note, this is all supposed to be in italics; it was intentional. This chapter was originally supposed to be, at most, a three paragraph long dream at the beginning of the next chapter. It got away from me. Like this entire fic...


	65. Chapter 65

Steve woke up to a cool breeze moving over his skin, comfortable save for a low ache very deep in his belly. He could almost ignore it. It felt like an old bruise more than a fresh wound, large and expansive though it was, but only if a bruise could have chill. A hand was running through his hair, another was resting on his arm, gently stroking it every now and then. He was on his back and he opened his eyes to see Thor and Bucky sitting on either side of him, resting against the headboard of a large bed. They looked exhausted. He wanted to apologize for that, but thought that was probably not what they wanted to hear.

“Hey,” Steve said instead, voice rasping in his throat just a little. He was drowsy; still tired despite sleeping, as if he had been running and fighting for a long time.

“Hi,” said Bucky carefully. His hand stopped carding through Steve’s hair, and rested gently on Steve’s head; the metal was warmed from Steve’s skin, and Steve leaned into it without thinking. “Welcome back.”

“How long was I out?”

“A day and night. It is mid-day,” Thor said.

“Are you guys alright?”

“Christ, Stevie.” Bucky murmured. He bent down and pressed his lips lightly against Steve’s forehead. “You’re asking if we’re alright. I can’t believe it.”

“Are you?”

Bucky nodded against his head and Thor hummed. “We are better now that you’re here,” he said softly.

“Glad I could help.” They fell quiet for a moment; Steve could have stayed there between them for eternity. With a grunt he slowly sat up with Bucky and Thor’s help, leaning back against the headboard between them with a groan. Everything hurt; moving made it worse. Bucky squeezed in closer to Steve’s side, keeping him propped up and Thor held Steve’s arm in his hand; fingers now idly running along his forearm. Steve blinked down at Thor’s hand realizing that Thor was rubbing right where Bucky had cut Steve’s arms months ago.

Steve remembered his dream. “Thor?”

“Hmm?”

“Your mom says hi. She sends her love. I saw her when I was sleeping.”

The hand on his arm stopped. Thor peered at Steve and met his eyes. He opened his mouth a few times; trying to find the words he wanted to say. His eyes were bright but sad, and all Steve wanted to do was wipe away the pain he saw in them. He remembered how much it hurt to not be able to see his own mother; Thor did not deserve that, especially considering how recent Frigga’s death was compared to Sarah’s. He was seventeen when his mother died and it took years for him to come to terms with the change.

“And how did you find her? Amiable, I hope.” Thor asked at last, face tight. Steve patted his hand.

“She’s really nice.”

“Yeah, she is,” Bucky said unexpectedly. Thor and Steve turned and stared at him. “What?”

“She has visited you too?” Thor asked. He looked a little hurt when Bucky nodded. “I have not seen her in some time. Since the mission to rescue Lady Hill.”

“She told me it takes a deep sleep, or a portal to go to wherever she is. A different plane.”

“A deep sleep?” Steve asked, before he remembered. “Your medication?”

“I guess so. I’ve seen her a lot. I thought you both did. She pulls me out of nightmares when I can’t wake up. She talks to our folks, Stevie. And she thinks I’m funny, so you know she’s a smart lady.” Thor snorted. “She’s better than the therapists, if I’m being brutally honest. But she— she also knows everything I’ve done. She’s so bright it’s like going blind.”

“Everything the Winter Soldier did.”

“We’re the same.” 

Steve held Bucky’s hand. He thought perhaps he should argue, but there was no need. 

“I am glad you were not alone in your sleep, James. She does not judge you. I know she does not. I am glad she found you both.” Thor said with a sigh.

None of them spoke for a moment. Thor started rubbing Steve’s arm lightly once more. Steve could almost close his eyes and go back to sleep.

“She told me—“ Steve bit his lip. “What Loki did; it won’t get better if I don’t—“

“Don’t what?”

“Tell you what’s wrong. ‘Let you carry my burdens’ is what she said. She said we can’t fix the orbs until I tell you. It won’t work.”

Thor frowned; “She spoke wisely; she always does. What she said would be true even if Loki had not cast his vile spell on you. Even without the orbs here. Your burdens are ours. Just as ours are yours.” Steve stared at their feet, three pairs in a row on the bed. Without thinking he pulled his knees up to his chest. 

“Tell us,” Bucky whispered.

* * *

_I love you both._

“It’s like a physical pain sometimes. It scares the shit outta me. Maybe it’s the serum, or something else but I don’t think humans are meant to feel anything this hard. And it makes the fear of losing you that much worse. And two people at once? Twice those feelings? It’s overwhelming.”

 

_And I don’t— I don’t understand why you love me back. How you can._

“Isn’t it obvious, Stevie?”

“Not to me. When you both told me you wanted me it didn’t make sense. It still doesn’t sometimes. And both of you together too.”

“Well I can make a joke not being able to say no to a standup guy like Thor, or I can make a joke about taking whatever bit of you we can get, even if we have to share.”

“You two would have been better off together without me.”

“Well that’s just blatantly untrue.”

 

_Is it pity?_

“No, my love. It is not that at all.”

 

_I was supposed to die in the plane. I was ready to die and they didn’t let me._

“And thank god for that, Steve.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me, Buck, but I can’t see it some days. I was ready.”

“Perhaps you weren’t meant to die.”

 

_Sometimes I wish I had died._

“Don’t say that.”

“He may say it.”

“Thor?”

“Do we not all think such thoughts some times? Are all three of us not plagued by guilt? He may say such things and think such things, because we know he will not act on such things.”

“But I should’ve—“

“You are here now, just as I am here now. The past will always haunt us, but we should not fear to think on it. It is just that; the past.”

“But I have acted on it. And everyone says I was doing something wrong, but I didn’t see any other way.”

“I know, love.”

 

_You were right Buck. I keep letting you kill me. I’d let Thor kill me too. It doesn’t matter the circumstances; your lives come before mine. Everyone’s does. They always will._

“But they don’t. You’ve always been so ready to just fucking sacrifice everything. Isn’t that hard? Aren’t you tired?”

“I’m fucking exhausted.”

“That means it’s time to rest.”

 

_I can’t._

“We’ll work on that. We’ll order you if we have to.”

 

_I don’t—_

“What is it, love?”

 

_I wanted you to stop._

“What?”

“The other night. When we were all together, when we let Bucky take the reins. I needed you to stop. I didn’t ask because I thought Bucky needed me to do what he said. I thought he needed it more than I needed it to stop.”

“You should’ve said—“

“I know.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No. Buck, you didn’t know. It’s okay now. You didn’t know, you didn’t hurt me. It was just so much. And we know better now. Jane told us about—“

“But you wanted us to stop. You wanted me to stop—“

“Buck, don’t go.”

“I’m not going, I just need to—“

“I’m sorry, Bucky! I’m so sorry—“

“No! Stop. You can’t be sorry, stop being sorry.”

“I didn’t want you to know. You didn’t know. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You said you wouldn’t let me kill you again, Steve!” 

“You didn’t kill me.”

“I might as well have, Steve!”

“Barnes, he is telling us now—“

“Was it the hand? Tell me. You’ve been weird about it since I came back.”

“I don’t mind the hand anymore, Bucky. What Loki showed me… I’m not scared of the hand.”

“But you minded it before?”

“Yeah. Because if I thought about it for too long I kept seeing— kept thinking—”

“What?”

“It was my fault. They were torturing you while I was fucking sleeping.”

“That’s not—“

 

_I should’ve jumped after you._

“God damn it, Steve. You don’t really believe that do you?”

“He does. He has told me thus before.”

“God, Steve.”

 

_I should’ve jumped after you, I should’ve jumped— I’m sorry. It’s all my fault— it’s all my—_

“Stevie, no, no, shhh. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“It’s my fault. I should’ve—“

“It’s not your fault, none of it is your fault.”

“Let it out, Steven. Tears are better out than in.”

“Thor, if I start crying I won’t be able to stop. It hurts.”

“And we will sit here through all of it.”

“Please don’t—“

“Let go, Steve. It is time.”

 

_It hurts. God, it hurts._

“Let it out. It is alright, just lie down.”

“We’re right here, Stevie. We’re not going anywhere.”

 

_I love you._

“And we love you, Stevie. God, I wish you knew how much we love you.”

“Like the moon loves her stars.”

* * *

Steve woke up hours later, warm between Thor and Bucky. He did not even have to open his eyes, he could stay here for the rest of his life. His body felt lax, his face fresh and a little raw from the tears he had shed, his chest open. The pain was almost gone. Perhaps there were some small twinges, places where his body, his muscles, nerves, bones, were still trying to settle back down to the way they were supposed to be. He was not all there yet, but he had not felt this way in a long time. It was that feeling after a good workout or fight, after a battle won; maybe a little sore, maybe there were some reminders of the bout, but it was good.

He had not just cried, but sobbed, screamed until his lungs burned, all the while being held in Bucky and Thor’s arms. After a while there were no words, just pain spasming through his body. He had been right, once he started crying, let himself go, it felt like he would never be able to stop. Whatever Loki had done to him tore it’s way through his throat as he sobbed, guttural and pained, shaking violently on the bed. He had to see all the things he was so afraid of over and over again; corpses, and memories and the hurt faces of all the ones he loved. It was letting poison out. When it was finished Steve was not sure if he passed out or merely fell asleep.

He curled down deeper into Thor and Bucky’s arms, and smiled into the pillow when he felt them both squeeze in just a tiny bit tighter.

“You alright?” Bucky whispered.

Steve nodded, letting out a breath his lungs actually deserved, sinking back into the embrace of sleep, the embrace of warm, loving arms around him.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

 


	66. Chapter 66

“The center orb will be the grounding point; the other six need to be placed and held around it for the healing process to begin.”

“Which one goes in the center?” Steve asked.

“We’re thinking Ernie. Heimdal says it’s the healthiest.”

“Which one’s Ernie?”

“The orange one that Hill and Fury have been holding on to..”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Barnes. What color was the one you and Thor picked up?”

“It was a sort of purple-black.”

Bruce and Tony exchanged a glance, smirking, “Count Von Count.” they said together.

“We have five, six, seven orbs! Ah ha ha ha!” Clint said in a strange accent. The rest of the team started chuckling while Steve, Bucky and Thor stared in silence. The other Asgardians looked equally perplexed but went about their jobs.

“Fury and Hill had the red one for a lot longer though. Why is the orange one the healthiest?” asked Steve.

“Well, we’ve got our theories—“ started Bruce.

“You fucked it up when you touched it,” Tony interrupted. “Big guy with the sword says you really sent it through the wringer. Poor Elmo.”

“Elmo?”

“There is a surprising dearth of red muppets. He would not have been my first choice.”

“Was Pepe red?” Clint asked.

“Pepe the King Prawn? He was kind of more orange than red. But not totally Ernie orange.”

“I thought he was a lobster?”

“I swear to god it’s like you’re speaking in another language,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “Just let us know when you need us.”

He pulled Steve back and they stepped out onto a balcony overlooking the city, leaving the others to putter around with the orbs. After a few initial tests they had done before Steve had woken up, they realized some of the orbs would only be touched by certain people. Thor could touch the yellow and pink orbs, Bucky the green and purple ones, and Steve the red and blue. The last combination made the others laugh, though the Asgardians did not know why. Steve heard Tony murmur something that sounded an awful lot like _‘fucking typical,’_ and could not help but agree, his nerves making the situation seem even more ludicrous 

_“It may hurt,” Heimdal had told them. “Holding the orbs in place while they heal will not be pleasant.”_ Bucky had replied with a flippant, _“Yeah, but will it take off my arm? I’ve only got the one real one left.”_ Steve had snorted at that, feeling Heimdal give them a stern look.

Asgard was beautiful. Steve realized he was standing on the same balcony that he had seen in his dream. There were no crumbling ruins this time, no woman covered in blood. It was gold and full of life. It was almost too bright for his eyes; he felt like he was seeing in color for the first time in years, same as it had been when he had stepped out from Howard Stark’s vitaray machine.

“This place sure is something,” Bucky said softly.

“Yeah, it really is.”

“You may stay if you wish,” a voice behind them said. Thor stepped forward, leaning on the balcony next to Bucky. “For a little while at any rate. You would be most welcome.”

He was dressed in a dark grey robe, and still had dark circles under his eyes. Once Steve had recovered, Thor had been called away for hours to discuss Asgardian politics. Steve did not know the details, but apparently the entire realm was in a state of massive upheaval. Thor’s father had gone into the Odinsleep, warriors had been sent out across the realms to search for Loki, the group of leaders had been begging Thor to return, to take up the mantel of king.

“That might be fun,” Bucky said. “We could get some fancy threads like Thor here.”

“Yeah, like your sci-fi books. I’m not sure how I feel about you being an ambassador of earth.”

“Be better than you.”

“How was your meeting?” Steve asked Thor, giving Bucky a playful shove.

“Tedious. But the Quorum is more organized now. Perhaps they were waiting for some permission to actually do work. I may have abdicated my role, but you would not know it from how they treat me.”

“Gosh, what torture being a prince of Asgard.” Bucky grinned at Thor who smirked back, bumping their shoulders together.

“Be careful with your words. I may have not been entirely truthful about either of your lineages. Any of the team really.”

“What did you say?” Steve asked smiling.

“Nothing too untrue. All of you are skilled warriors. Tony and Bruce are magicians; one makes fine armor, the other studies the intricacies of the world. Clint is your realm’s best archer and a noble knight. Sam has harnessed the power of flight, he holds congress with the creatures of the air.” Steve snorted at that. “I said the exact truth about Natasha though. I merely called her ‘the Black Widow’ to the Warriors Three, and they were good enough to spread that information; no one will question her.” Thor grinned at them.

“What did you say about us?” asked Bucky.

“You are champions of the realm, stronger than the mortals of Midgard by far. And—“

“And what?”

Thor scrunched his face up; “‘Princes of Brooklyn,’ I called you.” Bucky and Steve laughed. “You needed some title, and I did not have time to think of something better. Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes is what you’re also called, but it took some work on my part to make sure the others did not call you by royal title.”

“No,” Bucky said. “I like it. Better that than ‘Winter Soldier.’”

“Or ‘Captain America.’”

“I thought as much. They know you’re skilled, and have had a harsh life, but they do not need too many details. Prince Steven and Prince James seemed adequate. If only Jane were here; she’d find it rather cute.”

“I think I’m more just stuck on the fact that you were trying to explain us to your people and panicked,” Steve said with a smirk. “If anything’s cute it’s gotta be that.”

“Oh hush. I felt a true fool the moment it left my lips.”

“Well, you were a little preoccupied.”

Thor smiled and they grew quiet, staring out from the balcony out to the vast horizon. They stayed like that for a while. Steve felt so comfortable between the two of them, focused and centered.

“Are you both ready?” Thor finally asked, voice growing lower as he turned to look back into the palace. The hall where the others were setting up the orbs was growing less frantic as everyone settled in.

“As ready as we’ll ever be.”

They stepped away from the balcony, Steve sparing one last look out into the sky; the stars were bright, swirling over the city peacefully. A soft, warm breeze blew by and Steve turned and followed Thor and Bucky back into the hall.

The orbs were in place, floating around the orange orb — _Ernie_ , Steve remembered — peacefully. One by one, servants around the hall put out the torches, pitching them into darkness. With all seven of the orbs in place, Steve could see that they were thrumming together in sync; like a heartbeat. The longer Steve stared, the steadier the beat became before he suddenly realized it was in time with his own heart. He looked up at Bucky and Thor and saw that they noticed the same thing.

“Kneel down before the orbs. Put your hands over the orbs that have chosen you,” Heimdal intoned, voice echoing off the walls of the silent hall. “When I say, take them in your hands. Hold on until the orbs tell you to stop.”

“That doesn’t sound so hard,” Clint said.

“Umm, orbs don’t have mouths,” Tony mentioned. “They can’t exactly talk or tell them to stop.”

“The orbs will tell them when to let go,” Heimdal said.

“Okie dokie, then.”

“The healing will not be easy. Under no circumstances are you to pull away. The consequences will be dire.”

“How badly is it going to hurt them?” Sam asked.

“Possibly very badly.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Steve met Sam’s eyes and could not help but smile at him.

“Hold them up should they start to fall. They cannot break the circle.”

Sam nodded. Without being asked he stepped up and stood behind Steve. Natasha moved behind Bucky, and Clint stepped behind Thor, clapping him on the shoulder.

Steve was kneeling in front of the orbs in a circle with the others. They were arranged in such a way that he had to cross his arms over Bucky and Thor’s to reach his. Their arms were an intricate knot, one over the other in a fragile pattern. Bucky’s metal hand hovered over the dark purple and black orb, and Steve saw it was shaking. Looking at that orb Steve felt a pang of something harsh in his chest. Of all of them that one looked like— no, _felt_ like it was in the worse shape.

All three of them glanced at one another; they felt it too.

“You okay, Buck?” Bucky nodded at them both, biting his lip.

As Steve held his hand over the orbs he felt a warmth coming out of them; like blood-flow to a bruise. He wondered if it would burn his hand to touch. Thor and Bucky were ready as well, on their knees, hands floating over the orbs. The only light came from the orbs, shining up at their faces, eerie and sickly. The bags under Bucky and Thor’s eyes looked even more pronounced; Steve bit his lip and looked down at the center orb.

“Are you ready?”

“Aye,” said Thor.

“Yeah,” said Bucky.

Steve could only nod. He looked back up at Thor and Bucky and together they took a deep breath and took the orbs in their hands.

It felt like a great wave, pressure hard and heavy against his skin; pushing him back and all he could do to hold on was grip the orbs. It was hot, hotter than fire. It felt like he was staring into the sun so he closed his eyes and even that did not help; bright light glared through his eyelids. Was it so loud his ears were no longer working, or were they in the quiet of the vacuum of space?

It did not hurt, not exactly. But every fiber of his being was telling him to drop the orbs, to get away from them as far as he could. Steve could feel Thor and Bucky’s arms against his. Thor’s skin burned against his, and the metal of Bucky’s arm was painfully cold. He forced himself to open his eyes and he could see them both, bodies tense. They were screaming, and maybe Steve was too but he could not hear it. All he could hear was his heartbeat, rapid and banging in his blood. The bright light of the center orb was lighting up the whole room, and Steve could no longer bear to look. He looked down at his hands and saw his skin glowing from within; deep veins of color ran up his arms from the orbs, red on one side, blue on the other. Bucky and Thor’s were the same; the orbs were leaking color into their skin. Steve saw that the purple orb in Bucky’s metal hand was shaking violently, painfully screaming at the hand that held it.

He wanted to let go. It was too much pressure, he felt he was going to explode; shatter to a billion pieces of blue and red light, sublime and terrible all at once. _There are worse ways to die,_ he thought to himself.

_Not yet,_ said another voice. _Not yet._

“I got ya, Steve,” Sam whispered in his ear. “Heimdal says just a little longer.”

_Just a little longer…_

There was wind, there was hail, there was stardust. There was no air in Steve’s lungs; he gasped at nothing, feeling the oxygen sucked from around him. Or maybe he was screaming and could not breathe anything in? Steve could not say. It was too much, all too much.

_It is finished. Let go._

Steve, Thor and Bucky all let go of the orbs together; pushed backward by an invisible hand and falling onto the stone floor with a violent thud.

Steve could breathe once more, he lay gasping for air as the light from the orbs faded. Still they glowed, but not so bright, and they floated up into the air high above them. Steve watched as they spun in a slow gentle circle, transfixed.

“Steven?” a voice called out to him. “Stevie?” said another.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

They stepped into his field of vision, peering down at him as he lay on the floor. Sam was there too, looking down at him from behind him, and Steve realized his head was in Sam’s lap.

“You okay, man?” he asked. Thor and Bucky relaxed a little when he did, almost as if they were too scared to do it themselves. Steve nodded and saw all three of them relax. “It’s over. You guys did it.”

He looked up past Thor and Bucky at the orbs. They were fine, _they were happy_. Steve could feel it just by looking at them that whatever he and the others had done had worked. He slowly caught his breath, and his heart started to grow steady once more.

“Son of a gun…”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I was a good writer, I'd have a really fantastic explanation about why our dashing trio were the ones to do the thing with the orbs; as it is now, it's just main character syndrome.
> 
> Also, I was almost impressed with myself because for Thor and Bucky I almost could argue that their orbs/muppet characters were similar (Thor is Piggy and Big Bird, ready to punch, but nice and easy going. Bucky was the Count and Kermit; a bit of a {sci-fi} nerd and a hard-working leader), but then Steve happened and he has nothing in common with either Elmo or Cookie Monster... ah well.


	67. Chapter 67

“So we gotta plan another trip to Asgard,” Tony declared as they all finished their dinner. It was Jane’s last night in town, and a few weeks after they had returned from Thor’s realm after healing the orbs. “I could just see Bruciepoo frothing at the mouth at all the gizmos they had there.”

“You were frothing too, Tony.”

“I never said I wasn’t. We should bring Jane next time too.”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to go just to go,” Jane said. “No dire situations or anything.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you see the quantum field generator?”

“Yeah, the thing they stuck Stevie in? They called it something really stupid. What was it Brucie?”

“What was it? Soul forge?”

“Right?” said Jane. “It’s a quantum field generator. Like obviously!”

“Well Thor,” Pepper said “You are clearly much better off here; those guys wouldn’t know a quantum field generator if it smacked them in the butt.”

Steve chuckled at that, leaning back in his chair looking over the table to see if there was anything left of dinner. Jane nudged Thor with her elbow and Thor wordlessly passed Steve the bowl of dinner rolls and set it in front of him. They shot Steve a set of twin smirks as he reached for a roll. Natasha pushed the butter dish over to him from across the table. A hand came up in front of him and took the roll from him after he spread the butter, and Bucky grinned at Steve as he chewed.

“Jerk,” Steve said softly with a smile.

“Punk,” Bucky replied through a mouthful of bread. “Hey did you know in this century bread makes you fat?”

“I heard. I don’t think it applies to us,” Steve said as he reached for another roll.

“Man, I wish we had known that back when we kept trying to put some damn meat on your bones.”

“Couldn’t’ve afforded bread back then anyway.”

“What are you two murmuring about?” Thor whispered, leaning towards them.

“Bread makes you fat,” Bucky said. “Isn’t that nuts?”

“Well I know some good way to work it off,” Thor replied. There was a glint in his eye that made Steve snort, and Bucky’s eyes go wide, a large grin splitting his face. “Perhaps when I return from dropping Jane off at the airport?”

Bucky nodded enthusiastically, but stopped when Steve bit his lip, trying not to feel the rush of blood pooling hot in his core. “Is that— is that okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice just a bit too high. He looked down at the table, feeling his face flush. “That’d be good.”

Bucky elbowed him softly in the ribs. “Eat your roll. We’ll stop talking about it here.”

“Oh thank god.” He stuffed the roll in his mouth hastily, chewing as quickly as he could.

“What do you say, Thor?” Tony asked, shaking them out of their private conversation and bringing them back to the rest of the table. “When can we go back to Asgard?”

“Soon, I hope, should things stay settled here. I would like to visit some of the other realms as well.”

“But what would we do there? In Asgard?” Natasha asked. “There’s no internet.”

“Nat, sometimes people go out and do things.”

“Why would they want to do that?”

“You can bring a tablet, load it up with Star Trek episodes. I’m sure they’ll love that.”

“We can go fighting or hunting,” Thor suggested. “Or—“ he stopped and thought for a moment. “More fighting or hunting…” he chuckled along with the others. “I admit there is not much in terms of entertainment, not like here. There are books and ancient tablets and scrolls for reading. We can listen to the bards in the evenings, drink with my friends at the taverns, or the great halls. By all means necessary we will be avoiding any of the high holidays, as that requires dancing and it is an utter bore.” The others laughed.

“Will we have to pretend to be princes still?” Bucky asked. “Not that I mind, it just seems like a lot of pressure.”

“Man, why do they get to be princes?” Clint asked. “I was just a knight. What’s up with that?”

“Well,” said Thor. “I like them better.” Jane elbowed him as he grinned across the table.

“Clint, man, you don’t get to complain. They literally asked me to talk to their birds."

“I know I’ll never get over one of those Asgardian guards calling me ‘Lord Bruce the Green.’”

Jane suddenly checked her watch, “Oh shit. We gotta start heading out.”

There was a clatter of dishes as everyone started getting up, hugging Jane goodbye, clearing the table, chatting all the way to the door. Steve offered to drive Jane to the airport, accompanied by Thor, and started poking through the closet for a jacket.

“Don’t need that, Stevie. It’s a gorgeous night out,” Bucky said.

Steve peered out the window and saw it was clear out, last hints of the sun just peaking out by the horizon as it set. He decided to forgo the jacket and took the keys that Tony offered him, and they took the elevator down into the garage. If Jane and Thor were standing a little closer than usual, and looking just a little sadder Steve did not mention it. He unlocked the car and they headed out into the night.

Their conversation was light and easy. Jane told them she would be staying with Darcy so at least she would not be alone. And that they both had to visit her in London, along with Bucky, who she had grown very fond of in the last few weeks living at the tower. Steve suspected it had something to do with their mutual love of science fiction.

Then she kissed Thor, and hugged Steve — not without a quick, _“For fuck’s sake, take care of him”_ which Steve easily agreed to — and was walking through her gate. In a few moments she was gone, almost as suddenly as she had come.

Steve and Thor sat in the parking lot alone for a moment, sitting on the hood of Tony’s very expensive car. It was relatively empty save for them, and quiet except for the distant roar of planes taking off and landing. They peered out into the night in silence, watching the planes come and go, guided by lines of light on the runway.

“You alright?” Steve finally asked.

Thor hummed. “I am fine,” he said softly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Steve met his eye and Thor huffed a small laugh. “What am I thinking? You know that lie all too well.”

Steve laughed a little as well, shaking his head. “I’m pretty well practiced in that one by now.”

“Hopefully you will not have to use it again.”

“Getting less and less each day.”

“That is good to hear.”

“I hope you don’t have to use it too much either,” Steve said. Thor did not respond. “It’s okay to be upset about what happened with Loki. And it’s okay to miss her. I just hope you don’t feel you have to be okay in front of us. You’ve seen us both at some pretty low points.”

“I know. Though now that it is I that is in real pain, I can understand why you were less eager to share your troubles.” He sighed “Loki I fear may still be sick; and I fear he will always be a wound in my side that will not heal. Asgardian legions search for him, so there is little use for me. It’s maddening.” Steve nodded. “And I will miss her, it is true. I always do.”

“Because you love her. Because she’s your soulmate. You’ll miss her when she’s not there. Water’s wet.”

“This is true. You make it much more simple.”

“Wonder who I picked that up from?” Steve said with a smile. Thor let out a small laugh, and Steve wished it were bigger. Thor used to laugh so much more loudly. “Come on. Pepper said she bought more of the good gelato. You look like you could use some.”

They got back into the car and drove back to the tower. Steve and Thor ate the gelato and talked for a little while, looking out the window from the common area into the night sky. Steve invited him back to his and Bucky’s apartment, but Thor declined. He left Steve in the elevator with a chaste kiss on his check and went back to his apartment alone.

* * *

The few weeks after Asgard were quiet for the three of them. Thor had slept in Jane’s guest apartment as much as he slept with Bucky and Steve. Then in his own quarters, alone more often than not, despite Bucky and Steve’s attempts to bring him back. They had a frank discussion about safewords, and they decided on ‘red, yellow, green’ to be used at any point in their intimate lives, but so far they had not needed them. There had been some shift in their thinking, in their existence, leaving them without the heat they had started out with.

Bucky and Steve did not get up to much, either when they were with Thor, or by themselves, though they could have. Hands roamed, lips brushed but that was mostly it.They slept together twice so far, shaky and cautious the first time, loving and warm the second. Both of them were eager for more, but there was no rush. Bucky could touch Steve now, and Steve was no longer as scared, as wracked with guilt as he used to be. They slowed down, all three of them realizing that their frantic beginnings were fueled by fear of losing each other as much as desire. 

Things were not perfect. Steve still woke up with nightmares some times, screaming or clutching his chest and arms as snow rained down on him. He started therapy with an associate of Dr. Lin’s which left him raw some days, the same way he knew now that Bucky was raw on some days but hid so well. Steve was still backup on missions, and finally realized it was probably better that way for now. He had finally read the transcript of the interview Bucky had done with Natasha, Clint and the Stark Industries lawyer all those months ago, and it took him back to that dark, guilt-ridden place so deeply, he was not sure he would be able to come back from it. Bucky had a breakdown on a small mission with Natasha; something triggered him and he shut down, non-responsive, unseeing all while holding a gun, grenades on his belt. Natasha had to carry him back to the extraction point, and he was under observation in the med-bay for three days before the doctors decided to let him go. A fluke with his medication was their only explanation, but it left Bucky wary and sleepless for days. Thor was quieter now, a little listless, and so much sadder. Steve and Bucky tried to keep him in good spirits, but failed more often than not. It was an unusually rainy spring in New York that year.

But even with the hitches, with the pain and struggle and healing, when Steve was with Bucky now it was almost like it was before all that had happened; before the train, the war the serum. Except now he could press his lips to Bucky’s, their legs could tangle on the bed, they could laugh into each other’s skin. They spent nights just talking, whispering in each other’s warmth about anything and everything. 

If Thor and Jane were soulmates than so were Steve and Bucky, they decided. They were half of something, whole only when together, turning almost into one entity again after all these years. They fell into the same stride, the same sync as they had been in before they both fell. Steve thought his heart might burst. Steve felt real again; felt like he could help again.

“Thor said something,” he said softly to Bucky one night as they lay in bed together. “Before we went to Asgard. He was talking to Jane and I heard him through the door. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

“What did he say?”

“He thought we wouldn’t need him, now that you could touch me, now that we’re— He thought we didn’t—“ _love him._

“How could he think that? After—“ _everything._

“I don’t know.”

“He’s been so distant. I just assumed it was because Jane left.”

“I think it’s not just that. It’s Loki, it’s us. It’s everything. He’s tired.”

“And you? How could he think that about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I didn’t already know you’d never leave me, I’d be jealous of the way you look at him. Hell, when I first met him, and saw you two together, even when neither of you thought it would be anything I was ready to run, to leave you alone and let you be happy with him.”

Steve frowned at him, “I don’t understand.”

“There’s something in your eyes when you look at him. Kinda the same look you used to give Peggy sometimes.” Steve wondered about the way he had seen Thor and Jane, and Thor and Bucky look at each other; the way he caught Thor looking at him sometimes. He never considered that he might have been doing the same thing.

“But he doesn’t think so,” Steve replied softly. “Buck, he—“ _he doesn’t know._

“He will,” Bucky sighed, nuzzling into Steve’s neck. “We’ll make sure he figures it out. I promise.”

Steve ran his hand through Bucky’s hair, pressing his lips to Bucky’s forehead. “Thanks, Buck.”

“Anything for you,” Bucky murmured, falling asleep. “Anything for him.”

 


	68. Chapter 68

From this far away, the sound of the punching bag taking a beating was almost foreign. It was always Steve who used the bags, he did not think anyone else bothered. Perhaps Clint, occasionally, and Bucky once in a blue moon, though the bags usually were no match for his metal hand.

He walked into the gym and saw Thor at the bags, bare-knuckled, sweat on his brow. There were two broken bags on the ground near his feet. Steve stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Thor’s shoulder as he came close, stepping around and behind the bag as Thor stopped punching.

“I wish to be alone, Captain.”

“‘Captain?’ I can’t remember the last time you called me that.”

“Steven—“

“Just gonna hold the bag,” Steve said softly. “Come on.”

Thor sighed as Steve walked around and braced the bag against his shoulder. Thor was hitting hard; Steve could smell the flecks of blood in the air as the skin of Thor’s knuckles broke under the impact.

“Use your hip,” he murmured. “Your shoulder is taking too much of the hit.”

Thor gave Steve a small glare before punching the bag once more, throwing his hip into the strikes. They stayed there for a long while, Thor pounding on the bag and Steve silently holding it still, bracing against the punches. Just when he thought Thor was petering out and finally settling down, the punches became harder. Steve leaned into the bag as Thor started hitting more wildly, more erratically. Where before he had been letting out a soft grunt on the occasional impact but now he was almost screaming; loud and guttural, all his anger flowing into the bag. It finally broke, a seam ripping near Steve’s fingers, and sand started pouring out onto the floor.

Still Thor kept punching it.

Steve reached over and grabbed Thor’s arms, holding painfully tight, trying to stop him.

“Thor, Thor, stop, stop!” But Thor kept trying to pull away, as Steve scrambled to keep a hold him.

“Let go!”

“Stop, Thor.” He took Thor’s head in his hands, bringing their faces close together. They were breathing heavily, and still Thor struggled to pull away. “Stop, stop, it’s okay.” Thor slowly stopped fighting, eyes squeezed tight. “It’s okay.”

“Leave me be,” Thor said, pulling back, but weakly now.

“Come on,” Steve whispered back. “Come on, let me in.” He met Thor’s eyes. “Let us take care of you, Thor. You took care of us for so long. You took care of me— it’s my turn.”

“You owe me nothing. I was merely—”

“Owe you?” Steve could have cried. “Jesus Christ, Thor.” He pressed his lips to Thor’s, fragile, scared, desperate to convey all he felt. “I don’t want to owe you. I want— God, how could you think that?”

“Then what do you want with me? You’re not—”

“ _You_. I want you. I lo– I love you, Thor. I have for a long time.”

“Steven—“

“I’ve loved you since you kissed my scars,” Steve whispered. Thor inhaled sharply at that. “Christ, maybe even before that. There was so much wrong that I couldn’t see it in me. And I saw you loving me back and it scared me so much, and I fought against it so hard. I saw it, I saw you. And I was so wrong. Let me fix this now, let me make up for lost time. I can’t keep seeing you like this. You’re hurting and and I can’t fix everything, but let me try to fix this a little bit. Both of us want to fix this, Thor.”

“You do not need me anymore. Either of you. I would not be your burden.”

“You’re not—“ Steve looked away from the hurt in Thor’s eyes. “You’re not a burden. You’re one of us. You’re one of mine. I love you.”

Thor did not say anything. He held onto Steve’s arms as Steve’s hands tangled through his hair. He looked so tired, and Steve wanted to scream at the exhaustion on his face.

“We want you, Thor. I want you. Come back to us. Come back to me.”

Thor raised his head, and finally met Steve’s eyes. Steve held perfectly still; gaze unwavering as he waited for Thor to decide, hoping Thor would come back with him, nearly praying for it.

Thor nodded.

* * *

They stepped out from the elevator onto Steve’s floor. Bucky stood up as they walked into the living room. “Hey,” he said softly, glancing uncertainly between Thor and Steve.

“Hey," Steve replied, giving Bucky a small smile.

They stood awkwardly for a moment before Bucky stepped towards Thor and pressed their lips together. Steve knew he would never get over the sight of that. Thor tensed for a moment before melting into Bucky’s soft embrace. Steve could have watched them for eternity.

“We’ve missed you,” Bucky whispered when they broke apart. “I missed you.”

“And I you,” Thor admitted, ducking his head. “Both of you.”

“Why did you stay away?”

“He thought we felt obligated,” Steve said. “That whatever we might do was only because we thought we owed him.”

“Well, we do owe you,” said Bucky. Steve flinched, about to object. “I owe you. I owe you my life, Thor. You gave Steve back to me. If you had not been there, if you hadn’t said you’d protect him from me, I wouldn’t be here. Still running after Hydra, still running from Steve. You stopped that, you made it better. So much better. I owe you the universe.” Thor swallowed and nodded, looking down at the ground. Bucky gently guided his head back up, facing him, meeting his eye. “Imagine if it was Jane. If someone brought Jane back to you the way you brought Steve back to me. Can’t you see why I want to kiss the ground where you fucking walk?”

He turned Thor to look at Steve, who felt very small, but very warm in their gaze.

“And you gave me this. Look,” Bucky whispered, leaning back. He held out his hand, and Steve took it easily. There was no hesitation, their skin was meant to touch. Steve knew Bucky’s heart was beating even and strong. Steve met Thor’s eyes then, hoping to convey all the things he wanted to convey to Thor. His gratitude, his admiration, his love. He thought his eyes might not be big enough to let Thor know, his heart not strong enough to hold all this inside of him. “It was rough going,” Bucky continued. “But it happened because of you. So yeah, Thor, I owe you. I love you.”

Thor nodded again, staring at the two of them.

Steve held out his other hand. Thor did not move for a moment, and Steve thought perhaps this was not going to work; Thor was too trapped in his warring emotions and grief. But then Thor reached forward, and took Steve’s hand; skin still the familiar warm Steve knew and loved.

“You’ve been so good for us,” Steve whispered. He meant to be louder, speak more clearly, but the words were so fragile he could not. “You’ve given us something we thought we might never have again. But even without all that, even if none of that had happened, we want you with us. I want you here. You’re part of us.”

Thor let out a small sigh, gaze never wavering from Steve’s. He nodded once more.

Steve leaned in and kissed him, more passion than even he realized was bubbling under his skin coming out in the embrace. They pressed flush together, all the while Bucky was still holding his hand, watching on.

“Come on,” he murmured, shaking them just a little bit. “Bedroom.”

Bucky guided them along, and was probably enjoying watching Steve and Thor fumble through the apartment, almost never breaking contact. They were all by the bed, when a metal hand touched Steve’s shoulder softly, giving him a small shake.

“I’m gonna go,” Bucky said.

“What?” Thor and Steve said at once.

“I was gonna let you two do this alone.”

Steve shook his head, uncomprehending. “What?” he asked again.

“Do you wish to stay?” Thor asked.

“I didn’t think I’d be welcome for this. You guys should—”

“Barnes, you fool.” Thor broke off from Steve and they both leaned over to pull Bucky into them. Thor kissed him once more and Bucky gasped at the sudden contact.

“Okay,” he said when Thor pulled back, eyes a little bit wide. “I’ll stay. No need to ask twice. But it’s—“ he stopped himself.

“It’s what?”

“It’s you two, tonight,” he said. “I’d just want to—“

Steve tried to put the puzzle pieces together, but Thor’s hand wrapped around his stomach, holding him in front of Bucky, already knowing what Bucky meant, what he wanted. “You wish to watch?” Thor murmured, voice low.

Bucky’s eyes were dark as he stared at Thor and Steve, he licked his lips and gave a small nod. “Yeah,” he breathed out, his voice just a little higher than usual. “Wouldn’t mind that.”

“We— we should get you a little more comfortable.” Steve suggested, a blush rising on his cheeks, a small grin on his face.

Thor dropped his arms and let Steve move to Bucky. He nipped Bucky’s neck and Bucky moaned at the touch, the sound passing through where Steve’s lips met Bucky’s skin, pooling hot in Steve’s belly. Thor’s hands were on his back, the contact of his skin almost too hot to bear, but Steve would never dream of them leaving him. He had his hands under Bucky’s shirt and ran his palms over Bucky’s chest, flitting over Bucky’s nipples, feeling Bucky quiver at the touch. In a moment, Bucky had his hands at the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head, exposing the pale skin beneath.

Steve was leaning down to press his lips into the dip of Bucky’s muscles, to push Bucky back onto the bed to settle him in for the show when;

“Red. Stop.”

They fell still. None of them had yet used their safeword, and now here it was floating in the air in front of their faces, a dark cloud a sudden shift.

It was not Bucky who spoke, but Thor. He was staring at Bucky’s chest. He was frowning, face pale. Steve blinked and looked too. He saw Thor’s eyes pointing towards the jagged lines where the metal arm met his flesh, stark against his skin. Steve had seen Bucky without his shirt a few times in the last few weeks. He had traced the scars on his shoulder, had kissed them for hours one night, futilely desperate to erase them with his lips as Bucky ran a metal hand comfortingly through his hair. But surely Thor had seen the scars too? They had done things together before Steve joined in, of course he had seen this before.

“Thor? What is it?”

Thor raised his hand slowly, fingers shaking in the air, hovering in front of Bucky’s left shoulder.

Bucky blinked, and leaned back, “Sorry. I’ll put my shirt back on.”

“What? No—“ Thor sputtered and pulled his hand back. “No, the fault is mine. I should—“

“It’s fine, Thor.”

“I—“ Thor stopped himself, closing his mouth. He still stared at Bucky’s shoulder. “I did not know it was thus. I had not seen it before.” Bucky was already reaching for his shirt when Thor stopped him, hand raised once more.

Bucky reached up and took Thor’s hand in his, bringing it closer and closer to the twisted, jagged scaring on his shoulder and chest. When it finally touched, Thor let out a small exhale. Their eyes met and they simply stared at each other for a moment, thoughts passing between them that Steve could not decipher. Then, Thor stepped forward and pressed his lips to Bucky’s forehead, reverent and trembling, holding Bucky’s head in his hand. Steve could only stare. They sighed together. Bucky reached down and took Steve’s hand in his once more.

“Keep going?” Bucky asked softly. Thor and Steve nodded.

Some of the heat from before was gone. What was left was the three of them, standing together, breathing in sync. Steve pulled Bucky back to the bed, and took Thor with him. Steve, with some nudging, settled Bucky between him and Thor, on his back looking up at the two blonds; Steve on his left, Thor on his right.

Thor leaned over and pressed his lips gently to Bucky’s shoulder, the line where skin met chrome. Bucky gasped, gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Does it hurt?” Thor asked pulling back with a small jerk.

“No. No it— I didn’t think you wanted to— I didn’t—“

Steve ran a hand through Bucky’s hair, and took Bucky’s metal hand in his. He ran his hand along the smooth plating, felt the metal warm underneath his skin. It shifted in his grip as Steve slowly brought it to his face. The metal was soft against his lips, brushing his cheek. Steve sighed into it.

Thor pressed his lips to the scaring once again before pressing his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Does it pain you, Bucky?” asked Thor softly. Steve blinked at the nickname falling from Thor’s lips. It sounded good coming from Thor. 

“Sometimes. I’m working with Tony and Bruce to change the balance, remove some weight.”

Thor nodded and turned to Steve, he reached up and ran a hand through his hair and Steve leaned into the familiar touch. He had missed this. Thor’s hands were different than Bucky’s, calloused from the hammer, not guns, both warm instead of only one.

Bucky smiled at Thor. “Come on,” he said. “We’re here for you tonight.”

Thor half-smiled back, glancing between Steve and Bucky cautiously before Steve gently reached for his shoulder, pushing him to lay down next to Bucky. Bucky instinctively curled around him, pressing kisses into Thor’s neck and face, fingers skimming along Thor’s chest as Steve lifted himself up and straddled Thor’s hips. Steve pulled off his shirt, staring down at Thor, lids feeling heavy, and breaths coming deep. He bent over and took Thor’s mouth in his own. He felt Bucky next to him, slowly kissing and nipping down the column of Thor’s neck; he felt his own heart steady and strong in his chest; he felt Thor’s chest hitch with a stolen breath as Steve made the kiss deeper, hungrily taking as much of Thor as he could, hoping he was successfully giving Thor all the things Steve felt for him through his skin, his lips, his breath. Bucky’s hand ran down Steve’s bare back and bottom firmly, massaging the muscles as it went down, making Steve shiver.

Thor’s hips stuttered beneath Steve, and with the shift Steve felt Thor’s growing hardness against him. Steve grinned against Thor’s mouth and ground down against him playfully. Thor moaned underneath him and the sound of it went straight to Steve’s cock. _Yes, god yes._

Bucky moved up to kneel next to Steve, pulling Steve back from Thor. They stared down at Thor who looked up at them, pupils blown wide. Steve did not have to look to know that Bucky was smirking. He snaked his hand down Steve’s stomach and into his jeans. Steve gasped, squeezing his eyes shut when Bucky took Steve’s cock in his hand. He fell forward bracing himself on Thor’s chest as Bucky massaged Steve under his pants. Steve could not help grinding down again, this time to get more friction, more movement, _anything_. Thor reached forward and ran his hand along Steve’s arm, giving him something other than Bucky to focus on.

“How do you want him?” Bucky asked Thor. “You can have him, or both of us, any way you want. He’s all yours. He wants you, he told me.” Thor moaned once more and this time Steve moaned right along with him. “If I thought you talking about Steve was gonna kill me, you should hear the way Steve talks about you.”

“How do you want it Steven?” asked Thor. “I would hear this.”

“In-inside of me,” Steve whispered back, seeing Thor bite his lip at the word. Steve shuddered as Bucky continued to rub his cock in his pants, words failing him. “I– w-want—“

“Okay, Stevie,” Bucky whispered. “We got you.”

Bucky pulled his hand away, and Steve bit back a cry. He leaned back down to Thor’s face, running fingers along his skin, pressing his lips to Thor’s temples. Steve whimpered, trying and failing not to rut against Thor, desperate for friction.

“Should I tell you the filthy thing he said the other night? A good image while I get him ready?”

Steve whimpered, knowing exactly where this was going. He met Thor’s eyes as Thor nodded to Bucky. Steve was lost in their twin blue gazes as they looked at him. Bucky grinned against Thor’s face, whispering something Steve could not make out. Thor bit his lips and nodded once more.

Bucky sat up and reached around and undid the button on Steve’s jeans, releasing his painfully hard cock, pumping it a few times, if only for Thor’s benefit. Then he brought his hand down between Thor and Steve’s bodies and did the same to Thor. Steve struggled to pull his legs from his pants, all the while desperate not to lose any contact with Thor. By some fumbling, erratic miracle, after a moment hand Thor were both stripped of their clothes.

“He said he wanted both of us at once, both of our cocks,” Bucky whispered. Thor moaned, eyes shutting, head falling back. Steve’s thighs clenched around Thor’s hips as he pressed against Thor, leaning down to kiss Thor once more, mouth dragging on Thor’s skin. He was breathless at the reminder of that image. Hips stuttering against Thor’s, cocks pressing together.

“Can you just picture it, Thor? Our dicks together in him? It’d be so tight, he’d feel so perfect.” Thor’s eyes squeezed shut; Steve could almost see him picturing it, losing focus at the thought of it.

When Bucky had grabbed the lube was beyond Steve’s reckoning, but suddenly a slick finger was circling his hole. Steve keened at the contact, fingers digging into Thor’s chest. It pressed in and Steve’s back arched of its own accord, the stretch a beautiful ache. He bit his lip as Bucky started prepping him.

“Would you want to go first?” Bucky asked, easily. Steve could hear the grin in his voice. “When we try that one day? Do you want to be in first, or should I?”

Thor clutched the sheets beneath him, and then ran his hands up and down Steve’s naked, trembling thighs. “Barnes, your mouth is wicked.”

Bucky chuckled. “You love it,” he muttered. “You both do.”

Thor’s laugh rumbled in his chest, and Steve could not help but huff out a small laugh too. It was true, it was so true. He knew that, even if he did not know anything besides the feel of Thor’s hands on his skin, his thighs, his chest, his neck, and the feel of now two of Bucky’s fingers moving in and out of him, slowly, obscenely. He was whimpering, leaning down into Thor as Bucky prepared him, his lips finding Thor’s and kissing him slow and messy. He gasped into Thor’s mouth when Bucky’s finger brushed into that small, sweet spot inside of him, closing his eyes and feeling the scratch of Thor’s beard on his cheek, all the while his hips stuttered back and forth, his cock brushing Thor’s below him.

“I love you,” tumbled out of his mouth into Thor’s ear. “God, you have to know, you have to know,”

“I know, love. I know.”

“Are you ready, Stevie?” Bucky asked.

Steve nodded into Thor’s neck, and let Bucky pull him back onto his knees over Thor.

Slowly, steadily he sank down onto Thor’s cock, as Bucky held it steady. His thighs were shaking as he pushed himself onto Thor. Thor was huge, Steve knew that in a far off way, but it had been months since they spent that night together, since Thor had taken him completely. This was different, so damned different from the last time they had done this.

Thor was inside of him. Steve’s mouth was open in a silent cry at the feeling of being this filled as he sat over Thor. They were both trembling, radiating with heat and lust and tension and pressure. Then Bucky was there, straddling Thor’s legs behind him, teeth skimming at Steve’s neck, hands wandering around Steve’s chest, pinching his nipples, metal hand tickling the small hairs growing southwards towards his cock. Steve could feel Bucky’s hard erection in the small of his back. With a small nudge, he prompted Steve to start moving, ever so slowly up and down on Thor’s cock. He whimpered and Thor moaned, and Steve swore he could feel the sound moving through him from where their bodies were connected. Thor bucked up just a little and rubbed against Steve’s prostate and Steve cried out at the feel of it.

“Isn’t he perfect, Thor?” Bucky asked. “God just look at him, hard and hot and all for you.”

Steve bit back a low keen in his throat, leaning back against Bucky’s chest, head on his shoulder, starting to slowly bounce on Thor’s cock.

“Look, he’s blushing. He’s so good, isn’t he? So perfect.”

“Buck, I’m not…”

“He doesn’t like it when I call him perfect. He thinks I’m fibbing. Can you believe that, Thor? I tell him all the time and he just can’t see it. Can you believe that?”

“Nay,” Thor murmured, concentrating on his hips, on his cock pumping in and out Steve.

“You should come up here and tell him.”

Thor sat up, and he and Bucky shifted a little so Thor could start pumping into Steve harder, faster and so close to Steve now. Steve could feel the crackle of lightning on his chest, and the burn of fire at his back. Bucky held Steve up from behind, helping guide Steve up and down on Thor’s cock. Thor leaned in close, taking Steve’s mouth in his once more, holding Steve’s head in his broad hand. Steve could feel both of them against his skin, and the heat of it alone was almost too much to bear, but right now he would never think of losing it. 

“You are perfect,” Thor murmured in Steve’s ear, nipping down at that spot where Steve’s neck met his jaw. “I’ve always known it.”

Steve whimpered.

Thor picked up the pace, thrusting into Steve with firm, even strokes. Bucky reached around between Steve and Thor and took a hold of Steve’s cock and Steve let out a small, aborted yelp. There was so much skin around him, so much heat. He fell forward a few inches and was pressing his forehead into the crook of Thor’s neck. Thor’s hands were on his back, Bucky’s metal hand was running up and down his ribs, and his flesh hand pumping Steve’s cock. All three of them moved in time.

“Thor, I’m gonna—“

“Let go, love, I want to feel it. That is all I’ve wanted. I’d bring you to this brink over and over if you’d have me.”

“Yes,” Steve hissed. “God yes. Thor,” he keened, he reached for Thor’s shoulders as the three of them moved faster. “Thor, Thor, _Thor!”_

Steve saw stars behind his eyelids as he came, held tight between the two men he loved. His body clenched and a moment later he felt Thor come as well, thrusting up into Steve one last time with a groan. Bucky made a sound behind him, and Steve knew that he had come too, just from watching them. And that made wheels turn in Steve’s mind that Steve did not even know had been there.

Steve leaned in and pressed Thor down to lie on his back once more, feeling his skin under his fingertips, sucking kisses into Thor’s neck, feeling hot cum wet between them. “I love you,” he said, over and over again between kisses, mouth acting of its own free will. “You’re one of mine.”

Thor’s hand on his shoulder pushed him back. He met Thor’s eyes, gasping for breath. Thor beamed up at him, and Steve’s heart melted in his chest. He could not help but smile back. He fell down onto Thor, gasping as Thor shifted and pulled out of him, curling against Thor’s chest.

Bucky ran a hand down his Steve’s back, sliding off the bed with a murmured _“I’ll get a washcloth,”_ Steve hummed back to him vaguely, pressing his face into Thor’s neck, trying to turn his brain back on. His hand ran through Thor’s hair, and could smell the fine sheen of sweat that had broken out on Thor’s brow. Thor wrapped his arm around Steve, holding him close.

“I know it’s not enough,” Steve whispered. “But I hope this’ll start to make things a little better.”

“By the stars, Steven,” Thor murmured, sounding a little exasperated.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky asked, stepping back in and starting to wipe Thor and Steve down. Steve saw from a far away place he took Thor’s hands and cleaned off the dried blood from when he had been punching the bags. “He’s not apologizing again is he?”

“Almost,” said Thor.

“Amazing. Good lord, Steve.”

“I just— making sure he’s doing okay…”

“I am well now.”

Steve tried to choose his words carefully, but had some trouble through the blissful haze. “It just seemed like it was supposed to be good for Thor, but I ended up—“

“Are— are you apologizing for enjoying sex?” Thor and Bucky started laughing, warm rumbling sounds that Steve could feel in his chest.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve replied, grinning into Thor’s neck. Thor gave him a firm squeeze.

“It was good, Steven. You needn’t worry over me.”

“This whole thing started because I was worried about you.”

“But you have me now. That is a good start.”

“Will you stay?” Steve asked quietly. Bucky had thrown the rag away and settled on Thor’s other side, but now they both looked at Thor in silence.

Thor sighed and nodded. “Of course,” he said softly, pressing his lips to Steve’s head. “I am one of yours, Steven.”

The three of them curled up together, coming down easily in each other’s arms. Their breathing evened out, and their hearts settled. Steve’s hand found Bucky’s across Thor’s chest. He closed his eyes, feeling sleep pull him down.

_Steve was warm._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! Holy cow!
> 
> So that's it. Almost 150K words, that I did not know would exist this time last November. Thank you for reading if you've made it this far, I truly appreciate it! In a perfect world I'd have at least 20-40K more words dealing with everything going on with Bucky,(that is my one regret, I don't think I did Bucky justice in this fic... ah well), and fleshing out the last 10-15ish chapters, but I actually do have to get back to the real world. Also, Sam. I vaguely implied things were a little better, but I'd want to explore that for about thirty more years. Ah well. I'm working on editing my first manuscript — nothing to do with super soldiers, gods or assassins, unfortunately — which been pretty neglected for the last few weeks/months because of this project. I should probably get back to that. I kept telling myself that this story was 'writing practice' (and it was, I could literally see my writing getting better as I wrote this), so now that I'm all done with practice, the real work should start up again. :P
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://batraquomancy.tumblr.com) if you do that sort of thing! Feel free to say hi! Also, if you would like to spread this around, [here is a rebloggable post](http://batraquomancy.tumblr.com/post/121123095098) for your sharing pleasure.


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